Fix It
by AniRay
Summary: She had thought she was respecting him, giving him the freedom he needed. She had thought he would be safer. But he wasn't. And it was her fault. "I thought I had broken us," she whispered. "I thought that he couldn't forgive me for Bolivia. But he was trying to protect me." Or: Teresa decides to find James when she learns the real reason he left. But can he be saved?
1. Chapter 1

Something just didn't feel right.

Teresa had known that James' goodbye was real- that it was the end of their time together. But it had been months and there was no sign of him. She had thought he might find his way back to Camila or maybe even Boaz, but when she had checked her contacts she had found nothing. Then she thought maybe he had gone to protect Isabela- someone she knew she could trust. But that had been a dead end as well.

Finally she had called in Ivan. She hadn't wanted to- she wanted to respect James' space. But she couldn't shake the feeling.

Something was _wrong_.

It had taken a few weeks- apparently James had gone deeper into seclusion that Teresa had expected. But finally Ivan was here, dossier in hand, ready to tell her what she hoped would be good news.

"It was a lot harder to find your guy than expected. I had to do some high level hacking and I met a ton of firewalls," he started. "I mean it was like trying to find a needle in a pile of needles without using your hands. For a while I started thinking you had imaged him, except I had met him too so that didn't really-"

Pote clicking the safety off of his gun ended the rambling. Normally Teresa could handle it, but not now. Her nerves were shot and her patience was almost nonexistent. She shot Pote a chiding look before turning back to Ivan, waving for him to continue.

"Yes, well. Right." His voice was slightly shakier than it had been and the pleasant expression he had been wearing was much more anxiety-filled. "So he's alive, but that's the end of the good news. It appears he is being detained in a previously undisclosed location by Devon Finch." Teresa flinched at the name, even as her heart started pounding over James being held somewhere. "I did some digging, trying to find out why Mr. Finch would be holding him. I found a few things."

By the time he had finished, Teresa was in shock. James had left and immediately gone to Devon Finch. He had signed an affidavit saying that he would stay away from Teresa Mendoza in exchange for Devon Finch- who worked for the CIA- turning a blind eye to her operations. From what Ivan had told her, Finch would occasionally send him out to terminate certain assets for the CIA- all off the record, of course.

She didn't even notice when Ivan left. She didn't hear Pote get up and pour her a drink from the bar. All she could see, hear, _think_ , was James. The appearance of a tumbler of bourbon floating in front of her startled Teresa back to the present. She gingerly took the glass from Pote, cradling the cool glass in her hands. She didn't drink it though- her mind couldn't focus that much. She had thought he was happy. She had thought she was respecting him, giving him the freedom he needed. She had thought he would be _safer_.

But he wasn't.

And it was her fault.

"I thought I had broken us," she whispered. Pote straightened where he stood. It wasn't what she had meant to say. She hadn't even known she was thinking it until the words were already out of her mouth. But they were true. She brought her eyes up to meet Pote's. His face was hard, like he was angry. But she knew he was just worried. Still, she couldn't help adding, "I thought that he couldn't forgive me for Bolivia. But he was trying to protect me."

In her mind she knew that last sentence had been a statement, but it somehow came out sounding like a question. Pote answered it like one. "James is loyal. And he cares about you a lot. We should have seen it sooner-he wouldn't just leave you."

But Teresa was already shaking her head. "He would. He would if he thought I didn't need him. If I didn't trust him. He wouldn't want me to be looking over my shoulder and he wouldn't want to have to constantly be wondering where he stood. He did that with Camila."

Camila. The reason they had all ended up in this mess. She had been the one to bring Devon Finch into their lives. She was the one who constantly tried to pit James and Teresa against each other. Always scheming, never caring about the people she hurt in the process. Teresa knew she was being irrational- knew that she was more angry that she hadn't tried to find James sooner. But fixation on Camila was easier.

She stood abruptly from the sofa she had been seated on. Her mind was already making plans and weighing her options. Twisting one idea, discarding another, pulling things together and apart with equal ferocity. "We're going to get him back," she said, voice like steel and twice as cold. Devon Finch, Camila Vargas, Cartel or American Government, she didn't care.

She pulled her white blazer together, striding out of the room, her head held high.

She was getting James back.

* * *

He had stopped counting the months.

When he had first gotten to this hellhole he had counted the days, then the months, by how long since he left her. Now he didn't measure time- he measured bodies.

Devon had been sending him out at least once a week- sometimes 4 or 5 times. It was always a different location. It was always a different type of target- always a different method. But the result was the same- blood on James' hands and ghosts stalking his dreams. Suzie was still the most regular or his demons. The innocence in her eyes a devastating contrast to the gruesome way her flesh melted from her bones as the flames from the explosion engulfed her. He both dreaded and found comfort in her image in his dreams.

It was better than when Teresa appeared.

He tried not to think of her during the day. He kept his mind busy: going through mental exercises, mantling and dismantling his different guns in his head, planning his next hit even though he never had any information until the day he was sent out. He did sit-ups, push-ups, ran the length of his cell- which was unusually long compared to other detention cells he had seen. 20 feet long by his estimate, but it was only 4 feet wide. He could touch both walls with his elbows still slightly bent. It was claustrophobic on his best days. On his worst days it was like he was buried alive.

He tried not to think of those days either.

He was sitting in the corner of the concrete cell, angled so his legs were stretched out and the door was facing him. Old habits die hard. He heard the thud of boots and forced himself not to react. Sniping jobs weren't the only times they came to 'visit' him. Sometimes when they were painting bruises across his body he would see Cortez- tied up in Phoenix. 'You live by the sword, you die by the sword'. That's what he had said. James couldn't help wondering if this was some divine retribution. Sentenced to suffer for all the lives he had taken while adding to the count- a never-ending cycle of violence until they finally kill him?

The door scraped open, the hinges screaming from the combination of rust and the weight of the door. It was 4 inches of solid steel- even if he had a gun he couldn't shoot through it. The lock was like that of a bank vault, bolts that slid into the surrounding steel frames on all sides. There was no way to open them all simultaneously without a key. And he didn't have that- but this asshole did.

James let a mocking smirk grace his features. "Buddy, back already? I thought you would have spent a few more minutes with your left hand." It earned him a hard kick to the ribs and James had to fight to stay sitting upright. Letting out a harsh cough he went on, "Hey, I was just trying to make polite conversation. I thought we were past this brutish behavior." Flipping his hair out of his eyes, James locked onto the guard. "You're breaking my heart, Friend."

The guard let out a growl that James couldn't force himself to be scared by. They had all growl and snarled and hissed at him at one point. Sometimes he wondered if they were really all human with the amount of animalistic sounds they produced. The guard grabbed James by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. The guy was huge, but that didn't stop James from putting up a token struggle. It didn't matter how long they held him- he wasn't going to let them break him.

"Get your ass moving. You have a job."

Those words stopped the struggling- his body reacting faster than his mind. He was already on high alert, preparing for what he knew came next. The guard dragged him out of his cell and down the long corridor to the stairwell. It was locked and only the guy on the other side could open it. Safety measure. Smart. No matter how many times he saw them, he couldn't help but admire how well run this system was. The guy on the outside let them through, gun to James head the whole time as the three of them walked up the stairs. It was the same way every time. And every time he had to remind himself of why he didn't fight back.

Teresa.

Always Teresa.


	2. Chapter 2

Compartmentalizing had always been easy for Teresa. Even when she was a little girl, before her parents died, she could operate in boxes. If a little girl on her street was mean to her one day, she felt sad and wondered why, but it didn't keep her from playing outside. And when she met Guero she just got better at it. Hating his job, hating the risks, but loving him and how respected he was within the cartel. Then Camila and Dallas and everything since then had happened. Compartmentalizing was a gift and an art for Teresa by now.

Except with this.

She couldn't put James being in danger in one box and her emotions about it in another. It was all jumbled up together. The fear and anxiety affecting the way she strategized to get him back. She couldn't allow it- it could jeopardize everything. But she didn't know how to stop it. She had left Pote and immediately went to her office- where she had proceeded to do nothing.

Not for lack of trying. She could almost see a plan forming in her mind. But just as the image began to clear- just when she could reach out and almost touch it- James, the way he had been after Cortez had tortured him, would pop into her mind. James, the way he had looked at her when they were running from Agent Finnerman and the DEA. James, when he had told her the real story of how that little girl died.

And just like that, the plan was gone and she was wracked with guilt and pain, instead.

The sound of whistling came to her from down the hall. Her office was situated on the second level of the house they were staying in. She liked having a balcony to stand on when the stress got to her- it reminded her of the one in Phoenix. She hadn't told anyone that, though. The whistling got louder as Javier stepped into her office. He didn't knock- he never did. And any other day she wouldn't have cared- let it slide with an eye roll. But today was not any other day. Today was the day she found out James had given himself up to protect her. Today was the day she allowed herself to focus on all of the myriad little things he had done to show her how much she meant to him. Today was the day she couldn't compartmentalize.

Javier sat in the chair across from her desk, his usually amusing smirk annoyingly present. "La Jefa, hard at work. Tell me, what's so important that you haven't even taken you jacket off?" And just like that Teresa was unequivocally, unreasonably _annoyed_ with him. She was annoyed that he was there. She was annoyed that he was distracting her more than her mind was already distracted. But mostly she as annoyed that he was so happy and comfortable. Annoyed that he paid attention to her- enough to notice when she was upset.

But that had always been what James did. The silent observer- the one who made sure she was okay before anything else. James should be the one here asking her what's wrong in the soft voice she only ever heard when he spoke to her. But he wasn't. And she had let Javier take his place in too many ways. Any other day she would have been able to be rational about it- remind herself that Javier wasn't doing anything different from any other day. But today was different and today she couldn't stand the sight of him in the seat where James should be.

"I'm busy. If you need something, talk to Pote." A small part of her flinched internally at the ice in her voice. But the larger part- the part that was consumed with worry and anger and _fear-_ didn't care if she sounded harsh. The world was harsh. This business was harsh. The people who were holding James weren't using soft voices or kind words. They weren't catering to his feelings. She glanced up in time to see the contemplative look on Javier's face. But then it was gone and he was the laid-back sicario she was used to. He nodded his head, rapping his knuckles on her desk as he stood. She dropped her eyes back to the empty word document on her laptop, dismissing him.

"You know, Teresa, I'm here for you."

 _'_ _You know I'm here for you right?'_

She didn't hear him leave. And she was glad that when she finally looked up she was alone. She didn't want him or anyone else to see the tears welling in her eyes. She ran her thumb across the tips of her fingers, trying to reign in her emotions. The gesture felt odd. It was familiar-something she equated with both stress and comfort- but the actual motion of her hand was foreign. She repeated the motion, eyes tracking the movement. And like everything else that day, James was at the core of it.

She flattened her fingers against the desk.

But the longer she sat at her desk, the more ideas that came and went uselessly through her mind, the more she caught herself repeating the gesture. She couldn't add anything else to the tangle of thoughts and emotions within her. She couldn't think about whys or hows. Not when the cursor on her open document was blinking mockingly at her- the only black in a field of white. So she slammed the laptop closed and leaned back in her chair. She let her eyes close for the briefest of moments, trying to clear her mind if she can't organize it.

Teresa wasn't used to this. Even when Guero was shot and bleeding in her arms she had been able to focus on the task at hand, see the logical progression of steps to get him help. Even when she was blinded by anger as she rocked Brenda's still warm body in that garage she had been able to see that meeting with Camila was her next move, that using the book was the smartest option to keep herself alive. But she knew why now was different. She had already lived in a world where Guero was dead-she knew that grief and pain intimately- so losing him again would have been bearable. Losing Brenda, it was too late to change it- she was already gone- drowning in the pain wouldn't bring her back.

But James was still alive. She could still find him, _save_ him. And no matter how things had gone down in Dallas she had known that he was still breathing in the world somewhere. She didn't have to live without him if she didn't want to. Everything is so different when it's your choice.

And like fireworks exploding, she knew how she was going to get him back.

* * *

They had been going over this job for hours. That wasn't unusual, but the amount of detail that was shrouded in vague wording and instruction was new. He didn't like it. He didn't like the job or the fact that he was now part of a task force or even the way that Finch was directing the briefing. None of it was clean. And if there was one thing James didn't like it was a messy job. That's how innocent people got hurt. That's how you ended up dead.

He knew these guys didn't care if he came back or not. They only wanted the mission completed. But he had a plan, one that required him to be alive. So he sat and he listened and he thought of every way that this could go sideways that these idiots hadn't thought of. Devon was a smart guy- no doubt there- but guys like him were just a little too sure of themselves. And that was going to be his downfall. James was self-aware enough to know that he was good at his job, good at taking the shot and making the shot. But he was also aware of his blind spots. Arrogance wasn't going to get him killed.

After another ten minutes of general rehashing of the lash few hours, Devon signaled for James and the rest of this new crew of people he was working with to head out. One by one they made their way to the armory. James wasn't allowed inside. Fortunately Devon remembered the gun James preferred for these types of assignments. Five minutes later, heavily armed, the group of them headed to the van. Five guys were on this task force with him. All of the men were former military, all more than capable of completing the task at hand, all willing to kill him at a moment's notice. _It's so nice to be part of a team,_ he thought, forcing himself not to roll his eyes.

The ride was silent, not even the radio to ease the tension. By James' count it had been 20 minutes since the left the compound or whatever it was they were holding him in. He was always blindfolded and made to wear sound-cancelling earmuffs when he went out. The van windows were painted so you couldn't see through them. His location was always a mystery. The selfish part of him was glad. Can't send flowers to the widow if you don't know where she lives.

The van made a sharp turn to the left, knocking him into the wall. The fact that one of the guys had been knocked into him didn't help. A minute later the van veered right so hard that the guy on the end of the bench slid off, cursing at the driver as he got settled into his seat again.

Something wasn't right. This van was moving too erratically. _Someone's on our tail._ James tried to think of who could be following them. Even if he wasn't excited about this job, he knew how careful Devon was when it came to secrecy. If someone was following them, this was about to get bloody. Anticipating another uncomfortably sharp turn, James braced his feet and gripped the edge of the bench to keep from being thrown around.

But it was a pointless endeavor. Someone rammed into the side of the van- his side. The force of the impact sent the van rolling and there was no way to catch himself before he went flying into the bench across from his. His head met the sharp steel edge of the bench and all he could see was white. There was a sharp ringing in his ears, like after an explosion, but he wasn't sure if it was from the hit or if something actually had blown up. He tried to move, but he couldn't. And the longer he was there the darker everything got. He felt himself falling to the side- hoped they decided to just leave him for dead instead of take him. Then there was nothing

He woke up to darkness.

His first instinct was to bolt up and figure out where he was. He fought down the urge. It was better for him to let them think he was still unconscious for as long as possible. So he let his eyes close again, and focused on what he could hear. It wasn't much: water dripping from a pipe, air moving through a vent, and distantly he could just make out the sound of voices. He ignored the voices and focused on the water. He counted the drips, giving himself a way to measure the time. With a timer of sorts running in his mind now, he focused on himself. He started with his feet, making small seemingly unconscious movements. There was a sharp pain in his ankle- probably broken. Disadvantage number one. He could feel something wrapped tight around his left thigh- most likely a bandage. Disadvantage number two. It hurt like a bitch, but he knew he could run if he had to.

His fingers all moved. Good. But that was the end of the good news as far as he was concerned. He hadn't felt it on impact, but he felt it now- his gun hand was broken at the wrist. Disadvantage number three. He could shoot left handed, practiced for hours each week to make sure, but his shots weren't as clean. And if he was gonna make a break for it on a messed up leg he needed to be able to take down a target the first time.

But even with all of this going through his mind he was more worried about the head wound. It hurt like nothing he had felt before. And he had a feeling that if he had sat up earlier he would have passed out… or puked. Neither option appealed to him. Both could slow him down-get him killed- if he ran. The ringing in his ears was still there, but not so loud, it was white noise instead of an orchestra.

Having taken stock of himself as best he could, he decided to 'wake up'. He needed to see what type of shithole he was gonna be breaking out of. So he opened his eyes slowly. The ceiling was metal. _Maybe a shipping container?_ It wasn't too far from his face, if he sat up his head would probably touch it. He wouldn't be able to stand up straight. Disadvantage number four. He turned his head to the left and saw that the pipe with water came through a hole in the metal wall and dripped into a bucket. He could see light around the hole so the container was probably outside. That would make it easier for him. Not have to worry about getting lost in hallways. His eyes settled on the fan in the corner next to the bucket. _Not an air vent, then._ It was an industrial fan, metal rotators. And it looked like it stuck out from the wall a little, maybe enough for him to wiggle it out of place.

His planning was interrupted by the sound of the voices getting closer. He decided that he would rather be sitting up when they came in. Why put himself at even more of a disadvantage? He reminded himself to push up with his left hand just in time. His head did graze the ceiling. Slowly sliding his legs off the edge of the cot he was on, he looked to see the bandage on his thigh. It was almost soaked through with dark red. Disadvantage number five. He had always said that a situation with more than three disadvantages was most likely gonna get you killed. He pushed the thought away just as the door opened.

A thin, older gentleman walked into the room. James had seen a lot of creepy people, but this guy was on a different level already. There was an odd gleam in his eye- as if he was staring at the fountain of youth. There was an energy to the man that James didn't like, barely contained…something. He looked right into James' eyes as if he could see into his mind, as if he liked what he saw. If James were a superstitious person he would have been praying. But he wasn't so instead he kept his face impassive under the man's gaze.

"I knew you would be worth the wait." James' eyes narrowed. 'Worth the wait'? How long had this guy known about him? The man flicked two fingers and suddenly four soldier types crowded into the room and surrounded James' cot. He forced himself not to move, not the even acknowledge the action. He kept his eyes glued to the old man. His head was tilted to the side like a curious dog, and he had a delighted smile plastered across his face. Too bad it didn't reach his eyes- they were cold now. Dead. "James, I have chosen you to be a part of my work. Devon Finch was not using you to your greatest potential. Be grateful that I have saved you from his mediocrity."

For a second El Santo had taken the place of this old guy. He had heard something eerily similar in Bolivia. He didn't need these problems. But too quickly, or not quickly enough, El Santo was gone and the old man was back. Someone must have given a signal because as one the four guards pulled knives. He let his eyes go to each of them, noting their location and stance. He couldn't take them all, but he could put down two and maybe get a hold of the old man before things got too messy for him.

"You will be initiated, as all of my soldiers are." James forced himself to focus on the man in the doorway- the man blocking his escape. "But you must prove yourself as worthy. I have heard the stories about you. Now is the time for you to prove that you are what the stories claim." He took a step back, no longer standing in the room. "Either they die, or you do."

The door had barely closed when the first guard moved.


	3. Chapter 3

Pote had been excited when they left Phoenix. It had been a good run, but he could still hear Kelly Ann's laugh some nights. He definitely still heard the shot that killed her. Now they were set up in Brazil and he was loving it. The color, the noise, all of it was different from Mexico. Trying to figure out Portuguese was a pain, but Teresa was happy so he made do.

At least she had been. Then Ivan had given her the news and there was no more happiness. She still smiled at his jokes, but it was smaller now. She still teased him about his cooking, but she picked at her food more than she ate it. And he could see that there was still a light in her eyes, but it wasn't happiness. It was the gleam she got when she had a plan and was lost in the intricacies of it.

Her body was there, but her heart and mind were in a cell somewhere in Chicago.

And now she had a plan. No, she had an idea that would get them all killed. She called it a plan. He had never questioned her before, not really. He saw the strength in Teresa. He saw her intelligence. He knew just how strong her survival instinct was. But none of that was present now. Now, she was talking about raids. Now, she was talking about hostages. Now, she sounded like Camila.

Pote wanted to get James back. He owed the man a debt- more than one if he was honest. But he couldn't bear to watch as Teresa let her mind go to these dark places. James was worth saving in Pote's mind, but not at the cost of Teresa's soul.

He took his eyes off of the woman before him and set them on the man beside her. Javier Jimenez had been a surprise acquisition. He was good with a gun-almost as good as James. He could let him temper get the best of him sometimes but he didn't deviate too far from a plan. Pote could admit that he was a lot easier to have fun with that Valdez. Jimenez was always ready to have fun. But watching him now, it was obvious that didn't like this plan either.

Pote had a feeling it was more personal for him though. He didn't know what they were to each other, but he _did_ know that Javier and Teresa were sleeping together. Pote had told Teresa the same thing he had told her with James. Being attached to one person that way was dangerous to everyone in the business. And even though Javier was a good soldado, his loyalty hadn't been tested and proven like James' had.

Still, Pote could imagine it wasn't easy watching the woman you share a bed with so ready and willing to burn the world for another man. And as far as Pote could tell, Teresa planned to burn Devon Finch's world to ash.

"We will need Ivan to help with locating a few people- his mother and sister first." Pote caught the hard look Javier directed at Teresa, but since he didn't say anything neither did Pote. "We aren't using them to get James' location though. They are leverage for his freedom. And since we know where they are keeping James it should be easy to find other locations. Keeping James will be more dangerous than letting him go."

* * *

She looked up at Pote to gauge his reaction. She had gone over the finer details of this plan for hours before she brought it to him and Javier. She would fill them in on the minutiae after then agreed to her plan. Teresa knew it was less clean than she usually did business. She knew that Pote might think she was resorting to Camila's tricks. But she didn't care. That's why she was adapting the plan Camila had used on Epifanio- using Isabela and a fake threat from El Santo to get money for her business. She had thought it was disgusting at the time, but now she had something that she cared about as much as Camila cared about her power. Teresa could get her hands dirty if it saved James.

Pote finally spoke breaking Teresa from her thoughts. "Are you sure it's worth it to mess with the CIA like this Teresita?" She narrowed her eyes in confusion. Was he asking if getting James back was worth it or was he taking about the business? "I get it, that Cabrón is important to you. But if you start a war with Devon Finch you are starting a war with the CIA"

She pursed her lips, trying to keep a cool head. What Pote was saying was true whether she wanted to hear it or not. But she had already weighed the risks. If they were smart about this- if they were careful- Devon wouldn't be able to retaliate. She turned to look at Javier and she hated the twinge of guilt she felt when she saw his face. She couldn't think about feelings right now. The only thing that mattered was James. She turned back to Pote.

"It's worth the risk."

Javier let out a heavy sigh beside her. Pote turned and left the room. She knew he wasn't happy about this, but everything would work out. They just had to trust her. Teresa moved to stand on the other side of the table they had been gathered around. She knew that Javier had something to say about all of this and she wanted to be able to see his face clearly.

"I know the rumors about me, you know. 'The crazy Jimenez…Reckless…Trigger happy Javier'" Teresa didn't look at him yet. "But I've never been so reckless to take on the government." She heard the tension in his voice. He hadn't sounded so serious since Cortez. She didn't like him this serious. It made her question herself, and she couldn't afford doubts right now. She could feel his heavy gaze on her, waiting for her to look at him. Her eyes stayed on the table. "Did you let me in to your crew to take his place?"

Now she looked at him- because she had to. His face was carefully blank which made her nervous. Javier was nothing if not expressive. He had a flare for theatrics and even at his most subtle anyone could tell what he was thinking. So to see him now, face neutral, told her a lot. He was attached. She had known that on some level, but hadn't allowed herself to dwell on it. He thought they were moving towards something. And maybe they could have been. Maybe they would have gotten to a point where her emotions were involved and not just her body. But things changed.

Now Javier was the one to look away. Whatever he had seen on her face must not have been what he wanted to see. "So, if this plan doesn't end with us all dead, what then? Do I stay or do I go, Teresa?" She didn't know how to answer him. If this plan went well- if James _stayed_ \- her personal life would be a mess. Having James back was what she wanted. But he would know that something had happened between her and Javier. Would he even still want her at all? And was it fair to ask Javier to stay when she wanted James to go back to his job- the job Javier was doing now? Could the two men even work together after this?

Then she remembered how James had been when they got Guero from Cortez. Her heart ached when she thought of how soft his voice had been in that car. _'We need another guy at the winery.'_ He'd do whatever he could to make her feel secure. No matter what it meant for him. She knew that- a part of her had always known that. "I think," she started slowly, "that we can figure that out when the time comes." Javier let his intense eyes land on hers. "Are you with me?"

Javier rolled his eyes with a huff. As if the question was offensive. As if the answer should be obvious. And maybe it was. But she still needed to hear it. "Claro, Teresa," he hissed. "You shouldn't even have to ask me that." Then he was turning on his heel and walking away.

The guilt was building. Guilt over disappointing Pote with this plan. Guilt over hurting- no, _using_ Javier. Guilt over not finding James- _saving James_ -sooner. Teresa knew that no matter what she did she was going to hurt someone. A part of herself would break when she did. But she was doing her best to push it all down. It had been 67 hours since Ivan told her. She couldn't let herself crack under the pressure.

This had to work.

* * *

 _The sun caught her hair. He had never noticed how many different browns were in her hair. He liked it. He liked her smile more- warm, inviting, happy. She didn't smile enough. He would fix that._

 _Her eyes were sparkling. He had never understood that phrase until he met her. The smile on her lips reflected the smile in her eyes. She looked so happy. The sun above her, the ocean behind her, she was beautiful. He steps onto the balcony and she walks right into his arms. She's warm, and he can catch the hint of coconut from the shampoo she uses. Her arms wrap around him and her hands grip his leather jacket. He has one arm around her waist keeping her close and the other across her shoulders so his fingers can tangle in her curls._

 _'_ _I like it here,' she says and her voice seems to be coming from everywhere at once. It makes something warm unfurls in his chest. He hides a smile in her hair._

 _'_ _Me too.' He could stay here like this forever if she let him. And in the beauty of this moment he thinks she would. He could hear the waves crashing against the shore and he could taste the saltiness in the air. He had never been this relaxed before. Even as a child he was haunted. But here, with her, he feels peace for the first time in a long time._

 _She pulls away, smile still wide and happy. 'You have to come back to me.'_

 _He blinks, confused, and she's gone. He can see her at the ocean's edge waving to him. He turns to go downstairs but instead of his bedroom he finds a metal wall. He turns back to the beach, back to her, but there is no one there. He tries to call for her but he has no voice._

 _The sun is suddenly hidden by clouds. The soothing waves are replaced by an angry sea, waves crashing violently against- The golden sand is replaced by sharp rocks, and as he watched a body is thrown against them, battered, bleeding. Her hair is dull where it had once been vibrant. The smile on her lips is replaced by a mouth open on a silent scream._

 _'_ _You have to come back to me'_

 _The balcony falls away and he in plunged into darkness as her voice echoes around him._

He woke up gasping for breath, heart pounding in his chest.

He could still hear her. He could still feel her on his fingers and the suddenness of her absence was messing with him. _'You have to come back to me.'_

He turned on his side and vomited.

That's when he felt it. Pain. There was nothing on his body that didn't hurt. He let himself fall back onto the cot he was lying on. Nausea roiled in his gut at the change in position and the overwhelming pain he was in. He tried to remember what happened to him, but his mind was foggy- only the horrible vision of Teresa's broken corpse and the unrelenting intensity of his pain were clear. Carefully, slowly, he sat up- fighting to stay conscious with every movement.

He was shirtless. He felt like he shouldn't be shirtless. Reaching down he pulled the blanket draped across his legs away. No pants either. Basketball shorts had replaced his jeans. But despite not appreciating his lack of clothing, he could see more clearly the damage to his body. He had two bandages on his left upper thigh; one in particular hat was a little too close to his femoral artery. His right thigh only had one bandage but it was the length of his thigh and hurt like a bitch. He decided it was from a knife. His ankle was wrapped. A sprain- _that_ he remembered. There was a series of shallow cuts that had been left uncovered along his calves. Knife again.

Why couldn't he remember anything?

Checking his torso was a little harder. Bending hurt, hurting made it harder to breath, lack of oxygen made him dizzy. But he ground his teeth and pushed through. He pulled back one of the bandages and found a neat row of stitches going vertically down his side. Another knife. He re-covered the wound. He was a little clumsy with it since his right hand was in a brace. Broken wrist. But with each bandage it was more of the same. Knife wound, stitches, repeat. Some were slashing- shallow. Others were stabbing and deep. He was surprised they hadn't punctured anything vital.

 _They might have. You don't know how long you were unconscious._

Whatever happened he needed to get out of here. It would be nearly impossible with all the damage to his person. But he couldn't just sit on his ass and wait for them to finish the job. He had a _plan_ , damn it! And being dead wasn't part of it. Teresa's corpse flashed across his mind's eye. He brought his hands up, scrubbing at his face as if it would erase the image. The cast got in the way, and his other hand made known all the scrapes that were apparently covering his face. He let out a heavy sigh.

If he could just remember what the fuck happened. It he could think clearly about something other than his dream. _'You have to come back to me.'_

"I'm trying!"

His voice echoed loudly against the metal walls, gruff from disuse, frustration and pain equally clear. He sighed again. "I'm trying," he whispered.

* * *

It had been hours- or maybe days- when the door opened. An old man stepped in- oddly familiar even though James couldn't place how he knew him. But however he knew him it wasn't good. Even if he couldn't remember exactly why, his mind said not to trust him. His body tensed, ready to attack if necessary. It didn't even make sense. The old man looked like he could keel over any second. But James had always trusted his gut, and right now it was screaming at him that this old man was dangerous.

"You are awake. This is good." James' wariness only grew when the man spoke. "You survived. You are now a part of something bigger." He stepped closer and James had to fight not to recoil from his presence. "You don't remember what happened. This is normal. You will remember when the time is right." Another step closer. The tension in James' shoulders was painful. "When you are fully healed- hopefully in a few more days- we will begin your true training." Then the man was backing towards the door slowly, a sickening grin spreading across his face.

The door closed and he was gone.

James felt the tension drop from his muscles nearly collapsing onto the cot. Whatever this place was, whoever these people were, something was very very wrong.

He had to get out of here.


	4. Chapter 4

***Warning-This chapter contains: Psychological Conditioning by way of Torture.***

* * *

Everything had moved quickly once Ivan found Devon's family. She wasn't surprised at how quickly he did it, but she had factored in a longer wait time. She had spent hours going over the threat she planned to send to Devon. He was CIA, he had to know something about El Santo's cult and the reach the man had even after the attack at his estate. The CIA thinking he was dead came as a bonus in this plan as well. For him to have stayed quiet for all these months only to reappear now, as a threat to Devon personally?

It was almost too good.

But Teresa wasn't relying on chance. She'd had Ivan pull pictures from the last few days of Devon's mother and sister. He found the address of the woman Devon had been seeing for the last few months. From what Teresa could tell she didn't know what he did and he wasn't working her in some way. It was genuine. If he cared about keeping innocent people safe then he had no choice but to give Teresa what she wanted.

The symbol of El Santo's following was placed on the back of each of the pictures; the location of a dead drop on the picture of his mother. There was no other message. El Santo didn't waste his words on those he deemed unworthy of them. She had a team fly to Chicago, led by Javier. She went as well, although Pote refused to let her go on the mission. She had fought him long and hard on that. She wanted to be there when they got James. She wanted him to know that he was truly safe. But in the end she conceded. She knew it was smarter for her to keep her distance.

She had been careful to use men that she had found since leaving America. It was possible the CIA was still watching her, gathering information about her operation, but she didn't want to send blatantly obvious members of her crew. Javier was the exception. She wasn't sure if it was to prove himself to her or because he genuinely wanted to help James. She felt it was probably a combination. The moment he told her his decision Teresa had decided that motive didn't matter. He was helping. That was enough for her.

Now she was in the living room of the house they had rented waiting for the courier to deliver the photos to Devon's home. It was still early evening, but Ivan had assured her Devon had returned home. She had watched the footage, she wanted to believe him, but so much was at stake that she couldn't afford optimism.

Linking in to a traffic camera across from Devon's house Teresa watches as the courier knocks on the door. She sees Devon open it cautiously. Just as carefully he takes the package. Teresa can feel an ache in her chest from her heart beating so hard. _This has to work._ Then she's staring at a closed door on her screen, Devon and the courier gone from view.

"It's done. You should get some rest Teresita."

But she knows that would be a fruitless endeavor. She shakes her head, turning her attention from the video outside of Devon's house to the monitor tracking Javier and his group. It doesn't tell her much- a blinking red dot slowly moving across the screen. She knows they haven't reached the location yet, but that's all she knows. They could have been ambushed. They could have decided to abort the mission. They could have stuck the tracker on another vehicle going in the same direction. She doesn't believe any of that, but her mind is too fraught to be truly rational.

Everything is uncertain. Everything can still go wrong. She could lose an entire group of her people. She could destroy her connection with El Santo by using his name and his image without his approval. James could die. She couldn't be rational right now. There was no plan to formulate. There was only waiting and uncertainty.

"…if you sleep, I promise you."

She tunes back in, Pote's words finally breaking through the wall of worry in her mind. "What did you say?" He drew back at her tone. It had been much harder than she intended. Letting out a deep sigh she reached out and touched her fingers to the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," she said, softer this time. "What were you telling me?"

He watched her closely for another moment, trying to gauge her sincerity. Then he relaxed and said, "I said that I would wake you up if anything happened. You need to rest Teresita. You won't be able to help James or anyone else if you don't take care of yourself." Teresa gave him a soft smile that she didn't truly feel. This was Pote. She didn't want to hurt him or be rude. She knew he was only trying to protect her. But she couldn't give him what he wanted. By the way his face shifted into a worried scowl, he knew it too. "Fine. But if we're staying up all night we're gonna need food." Standing to head to the kitchen he paused. His eyes took her in, scrutinizing. "And bourbon."

She had a real smile on her face as he left the room.

* * *

Day three was over. Four days since she got the news. Almost one full day since she had gotten onto a plane. 10 hours since the courier she hired had gotten to Chicago. Two hours since Devon received her message. Now he was pulling out of his garage. Teresa knew they would lose him on the street. But she had to believe he was going to the dead drop. She had to believe her plan would succeed.

She switched the feed from his home to the dead drop location. It was secluded but wide open. He would see someone coming for miles before they reached him. There was no way for him to be cornered. That was intentional. She wanted him to feel secure. She wanted him to see it as a token of good faith, despite the surrounding circumstances.

Another hour went by before she saw headlights on the screen. Three vans pulled up to the location. Armed guards exited one. What looked like a bomb squad got out of another. And finally, Devon stepped out of the final van. It was a lot of muscle for a simple pick-up, but she understood his vigilance. She would have responded the same way.

There was a white mailbox one the side of the road. The courier had bought it earlier in the day. He had placed a sticker of El Santo's symbol of the side. After the bomb squad had cleared the area Devon opened the mailbox. The note was tucked inside a small white envelope, El Santo's symbol in the center. Teresa watched as Devon examined the envelope for anything that would explain its purpose- he wouldn't. Then he opened the envelope and pulled out the note.

This had been the hardest part for her. Typing the note, finding the right words. It had to sound like El Santo, Devon had to believe it came from the man himself. If he didn't the entire plan would crumble. So she had thought back to the bible she and Guero had read in Bolivia. The mix of orthodox Catholicism and his own twisted ideals. Then her second challenge- making the terms believable. She had gone over why El Santo would be so adamant about James' release. She had gone through reason after reason finding the flaws in all of them.

She prayed she chose well.

At the end of the note was the number to a burner cell. She had asked Ivan to do what he could to make the call untraceable. Then she had one of her men drive four hours away to wait for the call. When the phone rang at his location it would be forwarded to another burner cell here.

She watched as Devon pulled out his cell and dialed the number. He had been informed that the phone would ring three times before it was answered. He was told no one would speak on her end. The phone rang three times. She answered it. She didn't speak.

"I have received your terms. While I would like to accept, I no longer have what you want. I am not aware of Mr. Valdez's current location or status. Please accept my willingness to concede to your request as a gesture of goodwill. My family is not to be harmed in anyway." Teresa was already typing a text as she listened. She watched as Devon paused to read it. "During an assignment his transport was ambushed. Six of my men were killed. He was taken. There is no information available on who took him."

The line went dead. Pote took the phone from Teresa's frozen hand. There was a buzzing sound building in the room. It was loud. It kept getting louder. The screen in front of her was fading in and out, like a TV with bad reception. Then the room was blinking in and out as well. The screen-black- screen- white. And always the buzzing.

Then nothing.

* * *

Pote carried Teresa upstairs to her bedroom and laid her on her bed. Everything she had been through and this is what took her down. He walked back down to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water for her. She would want it when she woke up. Setting the bottle on her bedside table he watched her for a moment. She looked tired. She looked broken.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

He turned and left the room, leaving the door open so he could hear if she woke up. He went back to the living room. The computer showed the empty field where Devon and his people had been. It was mocking them- mocking _her_. He walked over a slammed the lid closed. Then he turned to the other screen, seeing the tracker on Javier blinking back at him. There was no point in him being there now. James wasn't there. And attacking the CIA now would not solve anything- just cause more problems.

He picked up his cell from the table and pulled up Javier's name. He almost didn't want to make the call. Teresa might still want to finish the job. But that's why he had to make the call, wasn't it? Teresa was too close to this. And they couldn't afford to make the wrong call because her emotions were calling the shots. He pressed 'Call'. It rang twice before Javier answered.

"Pote, as much as I love to hear from you, I'm busy. What do you want?"

"The job's over. James isn't there and we don't need a war with the CIA. Head back to Brazil. We'll meet you there" If Javier had questions he didn't ask them. Pote wasn't sure he would have had the answers anyway. He heard Javier tell the men to fall back and then he hung up. He needed to get the house back in order.

He took down the surveillance station, putting everything back into the portable file cabinet Teresa kept it all in. He rolled the cords the way Ivan said was best. He took the batteries out of laptops because that what he always saw Ivan do. Then he put the furniture back in place. When Teresa woke up it would be like none of it had happened. Maybe that way he could convince her to take a few days off before diving back in to the search. And he knew she would be searching again. They had been too close for her to be able to let it go.

After the living room was in order, Pote went to the kitchen. KellyAnn had teased him about it, but cooking helped him think. And he was picky about his food. So he scrounged around until he had all the ingredients for _menudo._ He hadn't made it for Teresa since Malta and he knew it was one of her favorites. As he began cooking his mind replayed the call with Devon. One thing kept circling in his brain. _'Six of my men were killed. He was taken.'_

If Pote was going to ambush the CIA he would want more hostages- more leverage. To kill all of them but one? That was personal. Whoever these people were they had been waiting for James specifically. And that made it an even bigger problem.

If these people were willing to ambush the CIA for one man, what were they willing to do to keep him?

* * *

They were going to break him.

He knew what it was like to be held against your will- had been in the situation more times than he wanted to admit. But this was different. After the old man had left a woman had come to his cell. She was pretty, young, looked like she would relish killing him. He hadn't seen her before so he assumed she just hated all men. He had met girls like that before.

She had walked into the room, her black heels clinking loudly. He forced himself to stay quiet. He had a feeling talking would get him nowhere with her. She had on a black pantsuit, with a crisp white blouse and a black tie. Objectively she could be considered attractive- if you got past the smug look on her face. He also noticed the clipboard resting in the crook of her arm.

She had walked up to him and he saw the way her nose crinkled in disgust when she took in all his bandages. He may not remember how he got them, but he was pretty sure he wasn't the one who started anything. Her people were holding him, not the other way around.

"The Director says I am to start your conditioning now." James had already been on his guard, her words had put him on high alert. "I find that beginning conditioning while the body is in recovery is helpful for retention. Pain and the practice of obedience have been shown to be closely related." James had found himself reevaluating her person, this time looking for anything he could use as a weapon. She noticed. "I carry this clipboard to prevent myself from overlooking anything vital. It would be negligible as a weapon. Nothing on my person would help you if things were to become physical." She had narrowed her eyes at him- critical, "When you were unconscious you kept repeating two names. Teresa and Suzie." He'd had to force himself not to react even as he cursed himself for giving them clues into his past. "Our research brought to light the story of the little girl. Death doesn't care about age- neither should you." She had seemed to be waiting for a response. He hadn't given her one. "Hm. Very well. We also learned of your time with Teresa Mendoza- powerful woman. Were you lovers?"

He hadn't answered. Apparently she hadn't actually needed him to.

She had walked to the door and hit the light. The room had been completely black only the sound of her heels had told him where she was. Too close to him. Then audio had started playing from somewhere. It was Teresa. She was talking to someone- probably Pote by the relaxed tone of her voice. Then there had been burning pain shooting through his body- electricity coursing through him. It had stopped almost as soon as it had started, but it had felt like eternity.

The first thing he had registered after he could breathe again was Teresa saying his name.

That's when he knew.

* * *

It had been hours since the first shock. He had endured too many more to count. Teresa's voice was still playing. How they had that much audio of her speaking he didn't know. What he did know was that every time she said his name the woman electrocuted him. It was hell. The voice he loved hearing say his name being the harbinger of pain. In between shocks the woman ran her fingers through his hair. He had tried to pull away, but she had put him in restraints when he was off balance in the aftermath of one of the shocks. He knew what she was trying to do. Get him to relax, trick his mind into thinking Teresa was the one touching him. He knew better though.

Suddenly the voice changed. It was still Teresa but she was no longer calm, no longer having a simple conversation with a friend. Now she was screaming. He could hear the fear in her voice and even though he knew it wasn't real he still felt the need to go to her- protect her. The lights in the room came on, blinding him. He hadn't noticed the woman leave her place nest to his cot. But now he could see that she was beside the door directing in three guards. They each had two 5-gallon buckets. One of the men had one bucket filled with water and the other filled with what smelled like bleach. The men left the room after depositing the buckets somewhere behind James' head- the last guard handing a large rag to the woman.

The door closed and she turned a knob next to the light switch. The lights immediately began to flicker, rapidly enough to make him dizzy. Teresa was still screaming over the speakers but now all of the screams were of his name. He could hear gunshots in the background sometimes and explosions other times, but the one constant was the fear in her voice.

He made himself focus on the woman. He noticed that what he thought was one large rag was actually two medium sized cloths. She moved to stand behind him and he could hear her dipping the rags into the liquid. The door opened again and another woman walked in. She was dressed similarly to the first, same style suit and heels, but the color was navy blue this time. She crossed the room to stand next to the first woman. Then she was next to him wringing out the rag onto his chest.

"We would be remiss if we did not introduce ourselves before we begin this part of your conditioning," the first woman said from behind him. "I am Ebony. My companion is Cyan. The journey to Honor is painful. We will guide you through it. Cyan, begin."

Teresa screamed his name. Cyan placed the electric wand to his wet skin. Ebony pressed a bleach soaked rag over his face. The electricity had him gasping for breath. The bleach was choking him.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

It all stopped.

The rag was gone from his face. The wand was removed. Teresa's voice was gone. The room was black. His muscles were still contracted, and his lungs couldn't function properly, but the pain had lessened.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Blinding lights.

Teresa screaming.

Shock.

Bleach.


	5. Chapter 5

She had gone non-stop since things had fallen apart.

Two months.

She had brought Ivan to Brazil full time. She wanted him close. There was to be no delay between him finding something out and her hearing about it. Pote had tried to tell her that a phone did the same thing, but she was adamant. One missed call, one bad connection and they could lose him forever.

She had feelers out with different organizations, politicians, legit businessmen with shady under-dealings. So far no one knew anything. Or if they did they were doing a good job of covering it up.

She had a front-row seat to one cover-up in particular

The CIA had crafted a _beautiful_ web of lies. So beautiful she had shot her TV to hell when she saw it on the news.

 _'_ _Six former military officers were brutally attacked and killed while traveling to a bar outside of Chicago last week. Officials say the killings were committed by an Anti-Military group. This Anti-Military group even went so far as to brand their insignia into the soldiers' foreheads as a calling card. The soldiers were laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery this past Tuesday with the traditional Twenty-One Gun Salute, the President writing a message of condolence on social media as well. Investigators say that the search for the culprits is still ongoing but that so far there are no leads to the individuals responsible. We will be following this story closely in the coming days. Our thoughts and prayers go to the families of these fallen heroes.'_

Six stories wrapped up neatly. Six men whose loved ones could have some type of closure even if it wasn't real. And he got nothing. No one cared that there was a seventh. No one was looking for _her_ missing soldier. The CIA had cleaned up their mess; there was no blood on their hands. But Teresa knew better. She knew just how bloody Devon Finch's hands were.

Pote had to remind her frequently that attacking the CIA was not in their best interests.

She frequently forgot to care.

* * *

She knew she needed to slow down. Not just because Pote wouldn't stop telling her, either. But she couldn't. He was out there. Someone had him and she needed to find him. So she didn't slow down. She operated on 3 hours of sleep or less. She dove into expanding her business, cultivating relationships, setting up legitimate businesses to launder her money and act as fronts for the cocaine.

Because if she was working she wasn't worrying as much. And if she was exhausted her nightmares couldn't find her as easily. She used to use sex to take her mind off of things. But knowing what James had done for her- not knowing what he was suffering because of it- she suddenly couldn't stand being touched. Javier had tried to get her to relax but her mind wouldn't let her body enjoy it. She had gone out and tried hooking up with strangers but it was a wasted effort. Then it became more than just with sex. She flinched when Pote would touch her shoulder to get her attention. Javier's hand on the small of her back as he led her through a crowd caused her hands to shake.

She knew she couldn't keep going this way. But she didn't know how to stop either.

Five months.

 _She didn't know how to stop._

* * *

"I don't care if they have an accord with them! If they know something about James I want the information. Their business isn't my problem!"

Her chest was heaving and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. She didn't care how it looked or how it sounded. If Pote wanted to leave she wouldn't stop him. If Javier called it quits, fine. But she needed the information that the Kelly Family had. Yes, she knew what leaning on them could mean-they were the second largest family in the Irish Mob. To accuse them, pressure them, even suggest they had information they didn't want to share- it could end in a bloodbath. One Teresa didn't have the firepower to be on the winning side of.

Pote, Javier, and Charger were all watching her. For the first time she truly questioned their loyalty. She knew she was demanding a lot. But it had been _8 months_. And every time she thought she was close- every time Ivan found a lead- they would lose him, _again._ She didn't know how much more she could take. She needed this.

"Look, the business is doing well. We are pulling in almost more orders than we can keep up with. Our income is consistent and high. No one is trying to take over our territories. If we lose the Chilean deal we'll still be okay." She had calmed her breathing. She had steadied her voice. She needed them to look past her initial emotional response and see that she was still thinking clearly.

Charger was the one to break the silence.

"James is my friend, too Teresa. I want him back, too. But getting him back only to put him in the middle of a warzone isn't going to help him." Pote nodded his agreement. Javier remained outwardly unaffected.

She let out a deep breath. "I know. And I hear you. But what other options do I have?" She looked at each of the men trying to show them that her question was sincere. "Tell me what to do- tell me how to get him back and protect all of our alliances- and I'll do it."

Their silence was suffocating.

* * *

Another month had passed. Nine months since Devon Finch lost him. Nine months of searching, and maybes, and almosts.

She had stopped saying his name at five months. She had stopped jolting awake looking for him when he appeared in her dreams at six months. Not that she dreamed anymore. Dreaming meant sleeping and for the last month she hadn't had more than 20 minute naps at odd intervals to keep her brain functioning.

She was in the Mercado Central. Pote had stopped trying to get her to sleep. Now he just took her with him everywhere he went. She wasn't sure who was supposed to be benefitting from the arrangement, but she didn't really have the energy to care either way. Pote was yelling at one of the vendors about prices while she wandered the makeshift aisles nearby. She was half-heartedly inspecting a bowl of fruit when someone knocked over a crate of something further down and she glanced up.

He was there.

He was in Brazil.

He was _right there_.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him. She was afraid that if she blinked he'd disappear. How many of her dreams had started like this? How many times had she seen him turn a corner only to get there and find a stranger? She didn't dare to move as if the shift of air molecules would cause him to evaporate before her eyes.

"Pote." Her voice was barely a whisper, more breath escaping than anything else. "Pote." She sounded hoarse, as if she had been screaming for hours. But he must have been closer than she thought because Pote was at her side in seconds, gun half-drawn as he scanned the area for a threat. "Is he really there?" She needed confirmation. She needed to hear him say it wasn't a dream. She couldn't take much more disappointment. And if this was all truly her imagination then Fate was crueler than she had ever thought possible.

He hadn't moved. He was still standing at the end of the aisle examining a crate of apples.

He had always bought apples when he went to the store.

Pote put his gun away and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"Yes, Teresita, he's really there."

The first tear fell.

* * *

The target was in sight.

He could hear Ebony's voice instructing him on how to approach:

 _'_ _She is mentally unstable. She will most likely think you are a past lover. Your physical appearance will be all she sees of you. Our information leads us to believe that members of her organization follow the narrative that she sets. They will most likely act as if they know you as well. Do not let this behavior affect your mission.'_

He stayed where he was, let her make first contact. Everything had to be perceived as her choice.

He noticed the armed guard she had with her. Pote, Mexican, trained to shoot since he was a child. Loyal to the target under all circumstances.

James knew he could take the older man out if necessary-dismissed him quickly. He let his mind run over the information he had been given on the target.

Name: Tara Mendez

Aliases: Tara Mendoza, Teresa Herrera, Teresa Mendozina

Nationality: Mexican

Ethnicity: Mexican and Brazilian

Appearance: Brown hair, Brown eyes, 5 ft. 4 in.,

He focused on her approach. She was careful, as if trying not to startle him. Amusing. The bodyguard had moved to the other end of the aisle- boxing him in. Less amusing. Finally she was beside him. She pretended to be selecting apples, same as him, but her eyes kept coming back to him. He watched from his peripheral vision as she intentionally knocked several of the apples to the ground.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry." She scrabbled to pick up the now unsellable fruit. He played along, bending down to help her. "I'm so clumsy. Do you think I'll still have to pay for them?"

He gave her an easy smile, "If you run now, I won't tell anyone." He saw her eyes brighten at his joke. Pretty.

Cyan holding pictures of dead kids popped into his mind. They had overdosed. Because of her drugs.

He held the smile though. She didn't know his true purpose. No need to set her on guard. He took the apples she was holding and placed them in a trash can next the stall they were at. The vendor either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Are you from here, or just visiting?"

He ran a hand through his hair, deciding which answer would put her more at ease. "Visiting. I never really had time to travel for pleasure before. I figured now was a good time to change that." It was partially true. His time with Camila, and before that the army, hadn't allowed for much free time.

Her smile grew softer, almost sad. If he didn't know better he would think she knew what he was referencing. He pushed the thought away. He did know better. He knew she was mentally unstable, had delusions, was suspected of having visual hallucinations. Whatever idea she had made up in her mind about him, she was wrong. She didn't know him.

"I understand being too busy. It feels like I've been chasing freedom my whole life." The sad smile was still there, but this time it was for herself. If she thought having an international drug business with allies in both major crime organizations and major legitimate businesses was sad he would hate to see her in an actual difficult situation. But he kept his expression pleasant and interested and gave a hum of agreement. She looked at him for a long moment as if coming to a decision. Then she tilted her head to the side and said, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

He had been expecting the question. It was the opening he needed.

He let his smile widen.

"Why not?"


	6. Chapter 6

Teresa had to force herself to sit still during the car ride back to the compound. She couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't stop replaying the moment she saw him for the first time. He was really there and she had seen his smile and heard his voice and…She gave herself a little shake. He was really _there_

She knew Pote was a little less enthusiastic. It was obvious from the tension in his shoulders. And maybe if she slowed down for more than a minute she'd be a little more worried too. But she had waited 9 months to have him back. She had worried for 9 months. She was allowed to breathe.

Her mind was already racing ahead to dinner. She was most definitely getting him a rib-eye steak. She had no clue how he liked them, but that wasn't an actual problem. _Actual_ problems were when your lover sacrificed himself to protect you. _Actual_ problems were when the people who he had sacrificed himself to _lost him_ like an old sock. Not knowing how he liked his steak was _not_ an actual problem in Teresa's mind.

Pote had barely put the car in park before she was out, running into the house. She burst through the door not caring how she looked. "Charger! Javier! I found him! He's here!" She jogged into the living room, not able to slow down yet. The adrenaline would wear off eventually and she would crash, but right now…This high was better than cocaine. She paced the hardwood floor, waiting for the others to come meet her. She heard their footsteps and turned to face that direction.

Pote came in and sat in the armchair, his fingers tracing the edge of his gun. Charger took the sofa, his face uncertain, but cautiously hopeful. Javier stayed by the door leaning against the frame. He looked at her for a second then looked at Pote. She wrinkled her brow in confusion. Why didn't those two look happier?

Then Javier spoke and she knew. "Are you sure it was him, Teresa?" She rolled her eyes with a sigh. She had intimate knowledge of the man- she was sure. Javier must have seen her response on her face. He just gave a sharp nod before, "Are you sure you can still trust him?"

Teresa jerked back in shock. Was he actually suggesting…

"Of course I can still trust him. If there is one thing I know about James it's that he's loyal." She turned to Pote, eyes imploring him to agree with her. "Look at what he did for our business. Going to the CIA, signing that paper- he didn't have to do that. He did it to protect me- to protect us." She turned back to face Javier again. His eyes were hard, appraising. But she wasn't one of his men, he didn't get to question her. And especially not about this. "Believe it or don't. It doesn't matter what you think. James is loyal and he has my trust."

Javier sighed and shook his head, "I hope you're right about this, Teresa." She watched with hard eyes as he left the room. He could be angry, he could be confused, but she wouldn't let him write James off as an enemy. She turned to Charger. He was shifting on his seat, uncomfortable with what had just happened. Teresa waited. She knew he'd say something eventually. She didn't have to wait long.

"I'm not questioning James' loyalty. I'm not saying he's not the same. But, Teresa, have you thought about what they could have done to him." She bit her cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. "I mean think about it. He's been with these people for 9 months." She sent him an angry glare. She didn't need to be reminded of how long he was gone. "Right, I know, you know. I'm just saying. Maybe they did something to him. The mind does strange things to protect itself. His loyalties may have changed."

Teresa shot Pote a questioning look. Had he told them about what happened? She started pacing again. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't want to think about _this._ James was back. He was _safe_. Why were they acting like it was a bad thing? She turned to Pote. He had been too quiet since they got in the car. And if she was going to listen to doubts she was going to listen to all of them. Because she was going to prove them all wrong. No, _James_ was going to prove them wrong. She quirked an eyebrow at him- a silent, _'Get it over with.'_

"You need to be careful Teresita." Her shoulders dropped in exasperation. She had expected it, but she had hoped that at least Pote would understand. "I'm serious. He didn't seem to know who you were. And we don't know how long he's been free. Why didn't he find us sooner? Don't you think him showing up in São Luís is a little too coincidental?"

Teresa paced to the other side of the room, standing in front of the bookshelf by the window. She tried to get her breathing under control- tried to see what they all wanted her to see. And in the time it took for her to stop moving reality crashed down around her. James could have changed. Hadn't she changed after her parents were killed? She knew she changed after Guero. But not the core of who she was. How she did things, how easily she trusted- that changed. But she didn't suddenly stop caring about her friends. She didn't suddenly look at people around her and see tools instead of human beings. But James _had_ been different. And she didn't really know what he had been through.

She felt the months of exhaustion pressing down on her. Sleepless nights, nightmares, months of disappointment- it was all pulling her down. Doubts she didn't want to have tearing at the fragile threads of hope she had been clinging to. And now that the adrenaline was wearing off, now that her mind was quieting her heart, she could see that was all it had ever been- tattered strings holding her world together.

Her legs were shaking as she made her way back to the sofa. Collapsing onto the cushions she let the full weight of the last 9 months land on her. She had pushed so hard to avoid this moment- the moment when she had to admit that no matter what she did, she may never get him back. It shouldn't feel like this. Fear had been her constant companion since she found out he had surrendered himself to the CIA. She had run on panic since finding out someone else had taken him.

That was supposed to be over now.

Now she was supposed to be able to hold him and tell him how much she had missed him. Now she was supposed to be able to take a full breath again because he was back in her life. They were supposed to be partners- in business and in life- if he still wanted that. She wanted him to want that. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted the softness of his voice in her ear. She wanted everything she had thrown away in Phoenix. No lies, no secrets, just them-together.

She dropped her head into her hands trying in vain to hold the tears back. She was tired of crying. She was tired of missing him. She was just…tired. She felt an arm wrap around her. Charger- Pote's cologne was different. "It's okay, Teresa." But it wasn't okay- not really. It hadn't been okay since he hugged her goodbye. She just hadn't realized it until 9 months ago. "…here for you. Somos familia."

She pulled away and gave him a watery smile. Pote had come to stand next to her at some point and she reached for his hand. It wasn't okay yet. She was starting to realize it wouldn't be okay for a while. But she had Pote and Charger and the rest of the crew. And no matter what had happened to him, she had James. And whether he knew it or not, he had her.

The rest she'd figure out later.

* * *

He studied the house in front of him. It was large, but not pretentious. The lines were clean and modern. The yard was manicured but somehow still gave off a natural feel. He liked it. It reminded him of his house in Phoenix. The image of a woman waving to him from a beach flickered in his mind. He couldn't grasp any details but the image left a warm feeling in his chest.

He pushed it aside.

He was early by ten minutes. The target had been eager to have him over, but sworn she needed time to prepare everything. He had accommodated her, of course. There was no point in making her uncomfortable. The bodyguard was already watching him a little too closely. James wasn't sure how he would play that situation.

His thumb brushed along the tips of his fingers- habit from when he was a kid. Taking a deep breath he walked up to the door and rang the bell. It swung open and he was greeted with a pistol to the face. He tilted his head to see around the gun.

"Javier Jimenez."

He hadn't been expecting him. Hadn't even known he had stopped running with his Death Squad. The target must be something special to have him playing butler for her. James waited for the other man to lower his weapon. They both knew that James was quicker when it came to disarming someone than Javier was. And now, after his training with the Director, James had tricks Javier didn't even know he needed to worry about.

"Javier! Really?" The target stepped around Jimenez and placed herself between James and the gun. During the spilt second it took for Javier to lower it, the barrel had touched her forehead. James was impressed, if a little confused. She didn't know him and she put herself between him and a loaded weapon. "Can we not do this right now?" Her hand had found his while she was talking. It was as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Looking down at their joined hands he had to remind himself that in her deluded mind it probably.

Without easing up on her glare, the target stepped around Javier and pulled James inside. He automatically located all of the visible exits. But he didn't need to it seemed, because Tara paused in the middle of the room and said, "There are three outside entry points to this room: the front door, the patio and the side door. You can't see it but it's to the left." He glanced in the direction she had pointed in. "There are four interior entry points: the kitchen, den, bathroom, and hallway." He glanced at her questioningly. Telling a complete stranger the layout you home- detailed or not, it wasn't smart. And she had to know that. She shrugged her shoulders, "I have a feeling you'd be more comfortable if you knew where the exits are."

He chose not to dwell on that.

He slipped his hand free of hers and caught a brief flicker of sadness steal across her features. _'I'm gonna miss you.'_ The words come to him from nowhere, faint and fading away before he can put them into context. It was gone in an instant and Javier was brushing past them shooting Tara an annoyed look. She ignored it. So did James. He would deal with Jimenez later. For now he needed to be a good guest.

"Yeah, I guess my time in the military left more of an impact than I expected." He made sure to put on a small smile while he spoke. Let her think he's embarrassed. "Thank you." She lifted her head so she could see him properly and gave him a shy smile. She was nervous. He didn't know why, though. He filed the observation away- he could think about that more later.

"You're welcome." She nodded her head in the direction she said the kitchen was. "Come on, the food is mostly ready." She started walking and he fell in step right behind her. When they walking into the kitchen he did a quick headcount. Pote, Javier, some British-sounding guy with glasses, and… Charger?

That was unexpected. James had been told that he didn't know anyone currently working with the target. Now he finds Charger and Javier both working for her. His immediate thought was that the Director had lied to him, but he quickly shut it down. Maybe these two hadn't been here very often. He knew the Director didn't have constant surveillance on the target, just enough to keep appraised of her location and major business dealings.

But even as all of this was going through his mind, James was already plastering on a surprised grin, reaching his hand out for Charger's handshake.

"Long time, my friend," the other man said. It sounded stiff and unsure to James, but he let it slide. It was never easy having old connections suddenly appear in your new life. James knew plenty about that. His eyes went to the target for a moment to gauge her reaction. She was relaxed, seemingly happy at the reunion. He focused back on Charger. He could hear Charger's distorted voice in him mind, _'…Epifanio…five million._ '

He fought to keep his expression the same- fought to push these fragmented thoughts out of his head. "What have you been up to? I see you traded Dallas for Brazil. Nice change, huh?" That broke the tension he had felt coming from Charger- as James had hoped. It didn't have the same effect on Pote or Javier. If anything they seemed more on edge than before. Before Charger could come up with a reply, James turned to Pote. "I know we kind of met at the Mercado, but I figured I should introduce myself properly." He held out his hand, knowing full well Pote wouldn't take it. "James Valdez."

Tara was sending looks that promised violence Pote's way. James couldn't understand why all of this was so important to her. But he didn't need to understand her- he needed to gain her trust. But her glaring worked, because the man let out a gruff, "Pote," before turning to the stove and ignoring them all.

James didn't care, but he knew by the hurt expression of Tara's face that gaining her trust would be harder if Pote wasn't on board with him. There was nothing he could do about it now though. So he sat on the barstool next to Tara's putting on his best 'It's awkward, but I don't mind' face. He struck up an easy conversation between himself, Charger, and the target. He kept things simple, but real. None of these people knew him very well, but Javier and Charger knew enough. And he had a feeling Pote would be looking up every story he told. James wouldn't let them catch him in a lie. Too much was riding on this mission.

Failure was not an option.

* * *

He had been gone for a little over an hour and Teresa couldn't stop thinking about him. It wasn't good thoughts, either.

Something had been off. From the way he reacted to Javier and Charger to the completely blank look he tried to hide when he looked at her. A look that said I don't know you at all. But he knew Charger. She had been in his life at the same time Charger had. He remembered Dallas, remembered Epifanio dying. She could see it in his eyes when he spoke about it.

But he didn't remember _her_.

It was as if someone taking his memories and erased her while leaving everything else. And things that were uniquely tied to her, they had changed altogether. She had asked charger to mention Lopez and the whole counterfeit situation from her second day. James' version said he had weighed a counterfeit bill the first time instead of her bringing it to his attention.

Pote and Javier had both paid closer attention after that. Javier asked about Cortez. James said Boaz had sent him to help James handle the situation after Kique was killed. He said he was worried about what Cortez would do to Isabela. Teresa knew he always had a soft spot for Camila's daughter- almost like an older brother- so the justification made sense. But it was all just so _wrong._

So now she was sitting in her bed, wearing one of the t-shirts he had left in Phoenix. Her mind was starting to find reasons why he didn't remember her. She knew he had been taken. She knew that the mind could forget traumatic experiences. She had never thought of herself as being traumatic to James. The way he had held her and kissed her…but that was before. And besides, it was too singular. Why her?

She remembered seeing a faint scar on his lower back when he had reached up to grab a book off of her bookshelf. Small, circular, slightly pink- it looked like one of the scars he had after Cortez. But Cortez had only left one permanent scar, on his lower abdomen. This was new. Which meant someone had hurt him intentionally.

And if that was true then maybe they had _made_ him forget.

* * *

Hey guys, You're awesome for reading this. And thank you to the people who left reviews. They made me smile. This chapter was admittedly a filler. But I wanted to show Teresa crashing a little and then returning to the Teresa we usually see. Now that's she's crashed (and gotten real sleep) we'll see the more focused, logical side of her come out. As for James...We shall see.


	7. Chapter 7

Teresa knew she had been distant the last few days. Not like before. Before the driving force in her life was getting James back. Everything else that had happened was either to that end or as a distraction when things weren't going well. That had been all emotion, and she knew it.

Now felt like her first weeks in America. She felt like the only person she could trust was herself. It wasn't true- she knew it wasn't true. She knew she had Pote and Charger and Javier. But that didn't seem to matter right now. Right now she was looking at the people around her noting their patterns and habits. She was seeing suspicious behavior everywhere when before she saw allies.

After the dinner, she had invited James to come back two days later. He had. It had been both better and worse than the first time. He told less stories than at that first dinner, instead asking about her time in Brazil and the things she enjoyed in her free time. She had been honest with him, engaging in the conversation actively. But she had felt as it there were a wall around her that she couldn't break through- a piece of herself being held back. She had analyzed and reanalyzed every word he said and gesture he made- judging the sincerity of each.

Standing at the front door as he had walked back to his car, Teresa had felt something shift inside of her. A coldness had crept into her veins and wrapped itself around her spine. Everything was still the same, but she felt like she was connecting with the world differently. She could see her emotions as separate from herself. Like they were shadows at the edges of her vision. Closing the door and turning to Pote she saw him the way he was, but she also saw the things she never let herself think about before. He could kill her- had been trained to kill from childhood. He could betray her- Hadn't he been loyal to Epifanio once? Hadn't he sworn to protect Camila? He had betrayed both of them.

She had trusted the wrong people before.

She wouldn't do it again.

* * *

Three weeks had gone by since she saw him in the Mercado. They had fallen into a routine. James would come over 3 times a week. They would talk. They would flirt. Never the way it used to be, though. She could see the difference- logically- but she didn't feel it. She didn't really let herself feel anything. He would always spend some time with Charger. He was always polite, but distant with Pote, and he didn't ask questions when Javier avoided him.

Teresa picked apart all of the moments where he would cease to be the James she was familiar with and become the new version that didn't know her- the version that she didn't know. And she was beginning to think he was more different than she originally believed.

One thing had always been consistent with James- he was vigilant. It was part of his job, of course, but Teresa was noticing a change. Something she couldn't quite explain in words. Before he had been intense and focused.

Now it was as if he was aware of everything around him because he was _connected_ to everything around him.

When they had been together in Phoenix she had seen for the first time what James looked like off-duty. He was relaxed and easygoing. He wasn't constantly searching for a threat every time he walked into a room. He had been aware of changes; a picture being out of place- someone turning a shower on upstairs- but it was because he knew his house and who was in it, not because he was looking for a problem. That's what this felt like- except now everything was home.

Everything except her.

The coldness in her veins spread.

* * *

One month after James came back into her life she slept with Javier.

It was everything she wanted and nothing she needed. It was fast and rough. There were no soft words or sweet caresses. He was angry and frustrated with her and he put all that aggression into bringing them both pleasure. She was feeling her walls dropping and she wasn't ready for the emotions she knew she had been hiding from. So she pretended he was that waiter in Malta. She pushed them both to go harder, faster, to wreck anything resembling gentleness before she crumbled completely.

They didn't even kiss.

When it was over she stood up, unconcerned with her nakedness, and pulled her robe back on. He sat up on the edge of the bed, fists clenched and eyes burning. They both knew that deep down he had been a substitute for who she really wanted- who she couldn't have. And there was no amount of fucking they could do that would change anything between them.

But she knew what it was like to be used for your body. Gato and her old boss in Sinaloa and all the shitty boyfriends she had before Guero had made sure of that. So she turned back to Javier, leaving a soft, emotionless kiss to his lips. 'Thank you," she whispered as she pulled away.

His hand struck out and grabbed her wrist holding her in place. She would have bruises the next day but she wasn't afraid and he didn't want her to be. She held his angry gaze, knowing that her own eyes were devoid of anything. Whatever he was searching for, he wouldn't find it with her.

He brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "He will never love you, Teresa. He chose to forget every memory of you. No matter what you think is happening right now, I can see it. He doesn't know you and he doesn't _want_ to." He let her go as he placed the barest hint of a kiss to her temple.

She left his room without a word. She washed his scent and his sweat and the feeling of his body off of hers. She pushed his words out of her mind like they never were. She walked downstairs to the kitchen.

She saw James sitting at the table, beer in hand, talking to Charger while Pote watched from the stove. James looked up when she came in. She thought she had locked away her emotions. She thought she was back to being numb- her walls firmly in place.

"Are you alright?"

She had never been more wrong.

* * *

He had been in Brazil for almost a month.

He hated it the same now as he did the day he landed. And every day he stayed was another day too many. There was too much noise here. There were too many people.

And for some reason he couldn't even explain to himself, he kept thinking about his time in the army. Nightmare after nightmare. Hours of pacing his hotel room, trying to get the images out of his head. Taking long runs in the middle of the night with Tupac and Bach blaring through his ear-buds to drown out the sound of his friends dying. He had broken one night and called Cyan, letting her soothing voice send him into a dreamless sleep. He didn't remember what she said, but it didn't really matter, her voice had been the true comfort.

Then there were the 'visits' with the target.

He hated those. Something about being in her presence made him feel uncomfortable. Like he was supposed to know something, but couldn't remember. Having Charger around was a bonus. He didn't have to play a part so much and he got more information. Charger had never been able to keep his mouth shut when he was around people he trusted. And even though Pote and Javier didn't, Charger still seemed to trust him.

But the real problem was Tara.

She was different. She had been so open and excited and almost giddy at that first dinner. She'd had Pote grill a few rib-eyes. They were good, better than any he'd had recently. It had been a pleasant surprise to for her to have guessed one of his favorite things to eat. _'You have your eye on something?'_ He remembered hearing a woman's distorted voice whispering the words as he cut the first bite. He had pushed it away only to be confused by the way Tara had been holding her breath as he took his first bite. Something about the way she seemed so invested said maybe it wasn't as much of a guess as he thought.

But that was impossible. She didn't know him well enough- hell, _at all_ \- to have that kind of knowledge. And, sure, she could have asked Charger, but it wasn't really something that the other man would know either. They were friends but they weren't the type of friends to swap favorite foods between target practices.

But that had been the first night. Ever since then she had been distant. It was as if she had flipped a switch within herself- turned off the part of her that had emotions. She still flirted with him, she still laughed at his disgust for tres leches. But there was an emptiness behind her eyes that hadn't been there before. He couldn't help thinking of what he had been told about her. _Unstable_.

He played along though, acting as if nothing was out of place. Because, honestly he didn't know. For three weeks she had been withdrawn compared to _one day_ that he had seen her completely engaged and present. It wasn't his job to assess her mental status. He just needed to keep her close. Because soon the Director would be sending the extraction team.

He needed to be ready.

* * *

A full month had gone by. One day closer to the extraction date.

He had dropped by to talk to Charger. The man had wanted them to go to a bar or something- enjoy the Brazilian night-life. James wasn't really interested, but he figured he might as well. Having Charger on his side had helped Pote ease up a little. The Older man still didn't like him, but James could see a slight change as the weeks went on.

The kitchen was overly loud. Pote banging pots and pans around as he cooked, the TV practically blaring through the sound system. It was honestly giving James a headache. He had tried to ask Charger but it didn't make sense to compete with the voices on the screen. So he had just sipped his bear instead.

Eventually the nose had stopped, Pote glancing at his phone before turning down the volume on the television. He stopped banging the cookware as well. The relief that seemed to flood Charger's body was unexpected. He hadn't complained so James assumed that it was normal for them when he wasn't around.

Then Tara walked into the kitchen and he knew why they had been making so much noise.

 _The fingers of one hand traced triangles onto a woman's bare hip._

She was freshly showered; skin a little red from the hot water or scrubbing or both. But she was carrying herself a little more stiffly, as if her legs were sore. James took that moment to recognize Javier's absence.

He felt a tight knot form in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Tara and Javier together. _He could feel the whisper of lips on his shoulder._ He frowned, trying to grab hold of the image- make it make sense. But then Tara sighed and his attention went back to her. Except this time he looked past her appearance and looked at _her._ Her eyes were red like she was fighting tears or exhaustion and she was holding herself a little too stiffly. Even with post sex soreness, she should look a little more comfortable in her own skin.

"Are you alright?"

The question was out before he even had time to think about it. But it was a good thing he asked. James watched the way Tara's brows twitched together in confusion, as if she didn't understand the question. Then she was by the stove and Pote had his arms around her. James watched the scene, making sure to keep his expression appropriately concerned. Tara's face was pressed to Pote's chest but James could make out bits of what she was saying.

"…be different…still miss him…not the same…"

It didn't make much sense, but he could try to piece it all together later. He turned away from the pair, pretending to give them privacy. Charger's eyes were on him-speculatively. And if James didn't know that he hadn't done anything to offend anyone, he'd think Charger was angry at _him._ But the look was gone in a moment, replaced with the same concerned expression James knew he was wearing.

There was more going on than he had originally thought. And if he could get the target to open up to him about it, he could finish this mission that much sooner.

* * *

The footage showed James was at Teresa's house.

This was good. They needed her to trust him. For this mission to be a success Teresa Mendoza had to be added to the collection.

They had watched James for years, knowing one day they would add him to the collection. Ebony and Cyan had programmed him perfectly. The end result almost seamless when compared to his pre-initiated state.

There was no doubt in his mind Teresa's programming would be equally thorough.

Finding Teresa had been a stroke of providence- fate smiling on their operation. An analytical mind like hers was a gift to be treasured and protected. A weapon to be wielded with precision and conviction. There would be no stopping the organization once Teresa and James were both under their banner.

A door opened behind him.

"We have confirmation, Director. Phase 4 is now complete."

He turned from the screen, and walked towards the door.

"Good. Our first subject will be Mendoza."


	8. Chapter 8

Pote had been watching Teresa more closely than usual. Her breakdown in the kitchen had been unexpected. After the last month of her not showing any emotion, one question from James had pushed her over the edge?

Javier's words had been cruel, and Pote made his displeasure know. But he couldn't say Jimenez was wrong. James was different. The connection they had was gone. The trust they built couldn't be recreated- not the way Teresa wanted it to be.

Because the truth was they worked so well because of Dallas. Him protecting her when he didn't have to. Her putting him first when no one else did. The respect that came from watching the other struggle. That's what made them work.

It wasn't the same now. Because Teresa was running her business. She was strong. She didn't have to fight the way she had those first few months after Guero. And James wasn't trying to keep her alive. He didn't have to choose between Camila and doing the right thing. He didn't have to worry about whether or not his decisions would cost a few kilos or a life. Without that pressure, they were just two people existing in the same place.

But there was no way to tell that to Teresa. The moment she had pulled away from him after the scene in the kitchen it was as if nothing had happened. She was stoic and emotionless again. The only proof any of it had happened was the red in her eyes. And she had been that way in the week since. Pote didn't think she could handle any more problems.

So of course Javier came to him with the recording.

Javier had followed James back to is hotel. How the other man didn't know was still a surprise- James was better than that. It didn't matter though. What mattered was the conversation Javier had overheard and recorded. Teresa needed to hear it, but Pote was holding off. He wanted more information first.

 _'_ _Yes, Sir. Things are progressing well. right now they are trying to add to the package, but I can handle it… …No, Sir, that won't be a problem. I understand how important this package is. A little more time and the package will be ready for pick-up…I'll keep you updated on my progress.'_

Pote didn't like the way it sounded. He listened to people in this business plan one too many kidnappings. And this sounded like one. And if it wasn't than what type of shit was James in the middle of. Because if any of it touched Teresa, Pote would put a bullet in him- history be damned.

Javier may have been pissed at Teresa but he wasn't letting anything happen to her on his watch. Pote could respect that. And him bringing this recording- that was smart too. Because no matter what Teresa told herself, Pote knew that she was too emotionally attached to listen to anything bad about James right now.

Someone had to watch her back before that Cabrón put a bullet in it.

* * *

The moment of weakness had been bad. Teresa needed to look strong- _be strong_. And bursting into tears about a man who didn't know her was not being strong. She had a business to run- a business she had been neglecting for months searching for a ghost. She had enough ghosts without actively looking for more.

So she was back behind her walls. She was back to feeling ice instead of blood running through her. The tears had done nothing but give her a headache. And why? Because someone asked if she was alright? It was laughable that she had allowed herself to be so dependent on one person that she forgot how to function without them.

Except she was too trapped by logic to believe her own lies. She even with her emotions delegated to an unreachable corner of her mind she knew better. She hadn't been chasing after a ghost. She had been chasing after her friend and protector- her lover. James. And she wasn't so dependent she couldn't function- she could and did function while he was gone. But the balance was off. She leaned too far in one direction, where before he would have been there to pull her back. When she couldn't James would question her motives. She could function, but it wasn't as efficient. She second guessed herself. Because one insult and her business could collapse. One bad decision and her people could end up dead. One wrong move and _he_ could disappear forever.

Her sanity, the continued expansion of her business, every hop of ever opening her heart again required that she not be open now. She could come back from this eventually. She could get some distance from this situation, she could wait for her emotions to settle-deaden. Then she would take them out and look at them individually. Then she could look back to these moments with clarity and say, 'It worked out for the best.'

Then the pain would stop.

* * *

She had noticed it before, but it hadn't truly registered just how on guard Pote had been recently. He had doubled security at the house. He brought two extra men whenever she left the house. He had always kept his gun on him in the house, but now it stayed drawn, finger on the safety at all times.

Something had changed that he didn't want to hell her.

She was done with his secrets.

"Whatever you know, you need to tell me. Because of you don't I'll think I can't trust you. I don't want to have to fire you, Pote. But I can't have secrets in my business."

The ultimatum had the effect she had hoped for. He played the recording. She had Ivan analyze the footage through as many programs as he could find. It was legitimate. She understood what Pote saw when he heard the conversation. She knew what it sounded like. And unbidden her mind went to when they had traded Rolando Rios as tribute to King George and what she had said to James. _'I've been kidnapped, how about you?'_ How many times had he been taken since she said those words? Maybe she had been his downfall even as he was her saving grace.

She had Pote stop carrying his gun in the house. She stopped the extra security. She wasn't going to hide. If James or anyone else wanted to make a move against her, she would face it. Javier called it stubborn pride. Teresa called it good business strategy. If you look afraid, enemies will attack.

Besides, what she was most afraid of wasn't her death.

* * *

She watched him more closely. She flirted less frequently. If James noticed- she knew he did- he made no comments. He continued to visit 3 times a week. He brought beer for Charger and small trinkets for her. Nothing big, nothing sentimental. A cheap shell necklace he had seen in the line at the grocery, a paper flower a little girl was selling. Things to show he cared. Sometimes she wanted to believe in the gestures, believe she meant something to him.

Sometimes she almost did.

 _The gift she liked most, the one she'd had Pote hide so she wouldn't drive herself insane. It was a book of Spanish lullabies and nursery rhymes. She hadn't seen many books in her own language here. It was hardback, white with gold lettering. The book itself was small, six by four inches and barely three quarters of an inch thick. Inside the front cover was a note, the ink too faded to be legible. Her fingers had traced over the nearly invisible writing. But that wasn't why it was so special. She let the book fall open and there, underlined in black were the words to Arrorró Mi Niño. She could almost hear her mother's voice humming the melody as she read the words._

 _'_ _I saw it and thought you might like it.'_

He couldn't have known- even before. None of them had known. She never spoke about her parents. But him giving her that book with that song… Fate was cruel, crueler than she could have dreamed, but she would take this as a mercy. A reminder of the first person who loved her from the person she- It had been a nice gift.

But a gift didn't equal innocence.

So she watched more and interacted less- with everyone.

* * *

He started getting her gifts.

Kim had always liked when he bought her things- she liked to be spoiled. James didn't think the target would be the same way, but there was no harm in trying.

Besides, Pote and Javier had become more suspicious since his 'call'. _Did they think he didn't know he'd been followed?_

The gifts were never anything special. A pretty little hair comb he saw in a shop window. Some cheap jewelry from some vendor's stall. It was nothing that would draw too much attention but still said that he was thinking about her.

The book had been different.

 _The store owner had been busy with another customer. James didn't care- he had time. He wandered the store picking up random items and examining them before returning them to their place. He found himself in front of a shelf of books. Most of them were, or course, in Portuguese._

 _But one was in Spanish._

 _Small, white book with the title embossed in gold. It was a book of nursery rhymes and lullabies. He opened the book, skimming through the different selections. Some were sweet- what he imagined his mother would have sung to him if she hadn't been so busy getting high. Others were more unconventional, with a few even bordering on morbid. But there was one…_

He shouldn't have bought it. It was too sentimental. But he had bought it, and he had underlined the words to Arrorró Mi Niño. He had given it to her and watched her face soften as she read the words.

He didn't know what they meant to her, but he couldn't quite regret the gift.

* * *

He was starting to see things- things about the target.

He had tried to remain untouched, but he couldn't ignore her anymore. She was different than other people in the drug business. In more ways than he had expected. From the information he had received from the Director, he had been ready for a psychopath- no emotion or morality, unconcerned with how their actions affected others. And from his time with Camila and the people that surrounded her business he had been prepared for a controlling, unreasonable mentality- completely unable to accept that she may be wrong about something, taking no responsibility for her failures.

But Tara wasn't like that. She was distant, and reserved, but she listened to the people around her. James saw the way she looked to Pote for guidance. He also saw the way she incorporated the suggestions she was given into the most efficient plan of action. And if it worked she gave everyone credit. It if failed she took responsibility and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He respected that, even if it didn't change how he felt about his mission.

But he also noticed other things. Like how she tensed when people crowded her, but easily offered a comforting touch to those she cared about. She always sat with the group, as if she wanted to be a part of it, but held herself separate from them at the same time. He noticed the way her eyes seemed to constantly be evaluating the person in front of her- questioning them without words- yet she never treated any of her crew as if she felt unsure of their loyalty.

Part of him wished she were involved in a different business. Then maybe he could appreciate these qualities he was seeing in her. But he couldn't shake the distaste he had for her world and, by extension, her. If was hypocritical of him, perhaps. But he had gotten out. He had come to see the destruction this business caused. He may not have been forcing anyone to use the product, but he was just as responsible for the outcome as if he had.

 _'_ _You're a good person, James.'_

He shook his head sharply. The words were so clear, but the voice… How could a memory be so sharp and yet so unfocused? He tried to go back to that voice, tried to find the memory it was attached to.

Blinding pain shot behind his eyes. His hands found the sides of his head as he tried to stop the sudden ringing in his ears.

Gunfire. Smoke. Blazing heat. Screams. Blood. _'Valdez! Get your ass over here!...IED…no time…'_

He could see the bodies. He could smell flesh burning. The taste of blood- like copper- on his tongue.

 _'_ _James…'_

A woman's hand running through his hair.

 _'_ _Don't hide from me…'_

Bleach burning his nose.

 _'_ _We're in this together…'_

Pain, so much _pain_.

* * *

His fingers are cramped- he uncurls then from his hair. There's a dull throbbing at the base of his skull. He can feel the rough fibers of the carpet against his forehead. He's on the floor. _Why am I on the floor?_

The world is white when he opens his eyes, bright flashes of red and green dancing before him until the room comes into focus. Slowly he sits up. His lungs burn as he forces in air- his breathing harsh to his own ears. The bed is to his back, he leans against it trying to remember…

But there's nothing.

* * *

"I think we should bring him back, Sir. He's complaining of headaches. I think he may be resurfacing."

He kept his eyes on the screen.

James was on the floor of his room. An attack this severe was unusual, but it was too soon. He needed to acquire Mendoza.

"Sir, if we bring him back we can reestablish control. If we don't his memories could resurface and we would lose both subjects."

He watched in mild fascination as the man writhed on the floor.

James was strong- both in body and mind. That's why he had taken so long to prepare. It's why he was regaining things from his past.

It was what made him crucial to this operation.

"Sir, I really do think-"

"No." He watched as the episode seemed to taper off- James pulling himself back together.

He was the key.

"He will not fail us."

He heard Cyan's small sigh, but remained focused on his soldier. The door closed as the girl left the room.

"He's the _key._ "

* * *

We get a bit of a peek into what James has been dealing with... Also, I had to look up some Hispanic lullabies. I thought the one I mentioned was really cute. If you don't know it but you want to...Google! Cuz I don't remember the site I found it at. Sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So this chapter is nothing like what I had planned in my outline. Which means I now have no clue what happens next. Definitely angst. Probably some pain. Yeah, that sounds about right...**

* * *

He told himself it was nothing.

He told himself that everything was the same. But it was a lie. For two weeks he had been fighting off headaches and confusing images. For two weeks he had been hearing the same distorted voice calling his name. And somehow he knew it was Tara's voice. He didn't know how, but he knew the target. Since the moment he had woken up from that dream on the floor of his hotel room almost two weeks ago. So he had stayed away from the target. He was worried he would make a mistake, that whatever was going on with him would be visible to everyone.

But he had a job to do. One that required he be present. So he went back. And the moment she opened the door the pain was back. He knew she noticed. Her eyes had widened with concern, and she had reached out to pull him inside and to the sofa.

Her touch had been searing hot even through the fabric of his shirt sleeve. And there was the smell of bleach making him dizzy. For a moment he was locked in a metal room. For a moment he was sure he would throw up right there on her sofa.

He knew her.

And nothing about that made sense.

He could see her moving around him, trying to help make him comfortable. But the motions made things worse and the concern on her face made his eyes hurt. She placed a bucket on the floor beside him. Then she was gone only to come back a moment later with pills from somewhere-the kitchen maybe? "Here, take this. It will help." He hesitated for the briefest moment but didn't argue.

He could see them in his mind. The woman he had been trying to remember and ignore? The target was that woman. The voice he had been hearing, soothing him as it was driving him crazy, it was her voice. There was no flood of memories, no sudden surge of emotion. But he knew that this woman standing in front of him was important for reasons the Director knew nothing about.

The Director.

The Director who told him he didn't know this woman.

"James?"

He closed his eyes against the softness of her voice. He couldn't deal with it yet. Because if he really knew her, then every moment he had thought she was delusional, every time he had written her affection for him off as craziness, was real. She had known him in that Mercado. And she hadn't pushed him to remember. Even though it hurt her.

"James. Please, I need you to talk to me. Tell me how to help you." But every word just made things harder. The way she had shut down after that first day. The way she had broken down in the kitchen. _'..still miss him…'_ She had been talking about him. She had been missing _him_. And now she still wanted to make sure he was alright.

He opened his mouth to say…something. He didn't know what. 'Hey, I remember you now. Sort of, but not really,' doesn't really work in this situation. And he doesn't know how much of his memory he will get back. He doesn't know if they can go back to whatever they were before, because he still looks at her and sees a job. Except he also sees her soft curls splayed across his pillows.

"It's nothing. I just have a migraine. It'll pass." He doesn't even have to look at her to know she doesn't believe him. It didn't even sound convincing to him. But he couldn't find the energy to lie to her properly. He opened his eyes and stood up- slowly. The dizziness hadn't completely passed but he needed air.

He needed answers.

"I gotta make a call really quickly," he said making his way back to the front door. He caught Pote watching him from the hall, but didn't pause. He would deal with him later. He would deal with all of them later. He shut the door and moved away from it.

He pulled up Ebony's number and hit 'Call'.

* * *

"I need answers, Ebony."

The phone was on speaker, so he could hear every word.

He looked to Cyan. Her expression was carefully blank, but he knew. She was angry.

He didn't care. This was a minor problem- one that could be solved easily. Bringing James back would have disrupted more than it helped.

"You swore to me that I didn't know the target. But I do. And I need to know how it is that I forgot that."

The Director watched Ebony and Cyan silently communicate something with each other. He didn't mind their secrets. Their loyalty was without question. They believed in this mission more than they believed in their own existence.

"James, I don't know what happened to you before you came to be with us. The trauma of your past is your own to bear. But if this is a conflict of interest we need to know. The Director is trusting you and if something is changing for you…"

He smiled. Ebony had a way with weaving words to form the most eloquent images. Loyalty was of utmost importance to James. Being trustworthy was paramount to his identity. To question either would shake him.

"So you don't know my history with this woman?"

There was doubt in James' voice, but who it was directed towards was uncertain.

"You never shared that history with us. And you never gave us the impression that you knew her. We acted accordingly." Ebony paused for a moment, then, "Something has come up that needs my attention. Cyan will speak with you now. Be at peace."

She went nowhere. But she did pass the phone to Cyan.

"James."

"Cyan."

" _Novi Animum._ "

She waited a moment. For what the Director was unsure. But he trusted these women. He trusted them to keep his men focused.

"James."

"Cyan."

"I called because the time until extraction is getting closer. Are you ready?"

"Things are going well. I have to go, I just got to a friend's house. We can talk more later."

The call ended.

The Director's smile widened.

 _'_ _Soon.'_

* * *

Teresa had stood beside Pote watching James. She had called Ivan in to pull up the audio surveillance for the property. He had gone one step further, hacking into James' cell phone so they could hear the other end of the conversation.

She had nearly collapsed when she heard.

He remembered her. He remembered her and she was some kind of target.

She didn't care so much about the second part though. Her mind wrapped up in the way things had changed in him during the call. He had been so agitated- shoulders tense, hand running across his face. And there was more than a little bit of skepticism in his voice as he spoke to the one called Ebony.

But then the other one, Cyan, had come on the line.

She had said something and James' entire expression changed. He was blank, emotionless in a way that frightened Teresa. Then the woman had restarted the conversation as if she had been the one to call James in the first place. And he believed it.

Teresa had turned to Pote trying to understand what she was seeing. Because it looked like something out of a movie. Secret phrases, missions and targets. Forced amnesia. "Puta. She did something to that Cabrón. He doesn't even know it happened."

Pote's words confirmed what Teresa had been hoping against hope was her imagination. A twisted game her own mind was playing to bring her a reason for him not to know her. But it wasn't a game. This was very real. And as she watched James make his way back to her front door- as he acted as if the last ten minutes hadn't happened- she felt herself coming back. The true Teresa- the woman who loved and fought with every part of her.

She couldn't hide behind her walls anymore. Because there was no way she was going to let those people do this to him. She was going to break their hold on him.

And then she was going to tear their world to the ground.

* * *

James had left five hours ago and he could already see a difference in Teresa.

It was strange having her back. Javier was happy, of course, but after all this time… For months her sole focus had been James, getting him back. Then he was back and Teresa had locked her soul away. Because of _James_. And now, because of _James_ , she was back.

There was a part of him that wished the other man had just never come back. That Ivan had never found him. But the other part- the part that cared about Teresa's happiness more than his own- was grateful that she hadn't stopped pushing.

And what these people were doing to him? That was some messed up shit.

Brainwashing a guy to get him to do what you want? Not Javier's style. And to do it so carefully- wiping out only the memories that would mean the most. And there was no doubt in Javier's mind that Teresa meant the most to James. But it was also kind of twisted- to send him to take down the woman he loved.

He had watched the footage, seen the change in James when that woman had said those words. Ivan had looked them up. It was Latin- _A new mind._ It was eerily accurate. But it had also gotten Javi thinking.

If they used that phrase to get him back under control, could Teresa use it to break their hold?

Teresa had latched on to the idea immediately and Ivan had been pulling up research and sending out requests for professional consults ever since. It would take time- at least a week to go through all of the material. And they weren't even sure what method of conditioning had been used, but they had somewhere they could start.

Now the only problem was actually dealing with James.

He didn't know they were on to him. In fact they knew more about him right now than he did. And there was no way Teresa would be able to hold herself back for long. Javier could already see it in her eyes. Underneath the determination and outrage was the woman who wanted to be there for the man she loved.

She wouldn't admit it to herself yet, but no one was fooled. And one day she would let herself call what she felt for James what it was. Javier hoped he was gone by then. He hoped James was back to his true self too. Because he wasn't sure that Teresa could handle too much more.

"What are you thinking?"

Charger had stepped away from the group huddled around Ivan's computer. Usually Javier would brush him off. They were cool with each other, but they weren't close. That seemed irrelevant now though. Turning to face the other man Javier replied, "I don't know if this is really going to work. We might get his memories back, but from what I can tell he's invested in whatever plans these people have." Charger looked at him strangely, but Javier wasn't a mind reader.

Teresa surprised him by responding to his words. "James will get his memories back. Then he will take these people down himself. He didn't give his loyalty willingly. They didn't earn it. They stole it. That's going to be what ruins things for them." Charger and Javier both turned to face her. She had come up behind them quietly and they had both been too wrapped up in their thoughts to notice. "Whatever happens after that is James' choice. But it will be a choice he makes when he has all of the facts."

Javier watched the fire burning in her eyes flare. She was a force of nature- unstoppable. He glanced over her shoulder to Pote and saw the same concern he felt written on the older man's face. Helping James was the priority for Teresa, but he and Pote…

They would be the ones watching _her_ back.

* * *

A knock on his hotel door woke James. It was 2a.m. No one should be here.

He got out of the bed quietly, grabbing the gun he kept on the nightstand as he did. He made his way to the door looking through the peephole to see who was outside.

Teresa.

No, _Tara_. He wasn't going to use her alias in his own head.

He opened the door slowly, lowering the gun. "What are you doing here?'

She looked him up and down as if she had never seen him before- or was seeing him for the first time in a long time. Her eyes found his. "Can I come in?" He opened the door wider and stepped aside.

She stepped in moving to the middle of the room. It was a decent size, not too big or too small. Enough for him and his things. Simple. He caught the corner of her lips curling into a soft smile. It made his head hurt at the same time he felt his anxiety lessen. She fiddled with her phone for a moment and he realized she was taking a video for some reason.

"I know it's late. I needed to see you, though." He didn't ask- just nodded and waited for her to go on. " _Novi Animum._ "

He blinked.

The target was in his room. How did she get in? And what was she doing? Was she recording him?

"How the hell did you get in here?" His voice was too rough, he shouldn't speak to her that way- not if he wanted her to trust him. But he didn't care about that right now. She had gotten into his room somehow and he hadn't noticed.

She stepped closer to him and he took the safety off of his gun. He watched as her eyes dropped to the gun in his hand, but she didn't seem afraid. "Look, I don't have much time. I want to show you something." He didn't trust her at all, but he didn't know if she had backup waiting either. So he gestured for her to put the phone on the table. She did, then backed away while he picked it up.

It was a video of him, in this room, from two minutes ago? _'I know it's late. I needed to see you, though.'_ He glanced up at her. They hadn't had this conversation. It was less than five minutes ago he would have remembered. _'Novi Animum.'_ His brow furrowed in confusion. Why would she say that? But then he focused on his face. He tapped the screen and took the video back 10 seconds. This time he watched more carefully. _'Novi Animum'_ His face was blank, and he could tell that something had happened to him.

"You came over earlier. I opened the door and it was like you had seen a ghost. I got you inside, gave you some pills because you looked like you were in pain." He lifted his eyes from the screen- from the image of his blank expression staring back at him. There were tears in her eyes. "You went outside to make a call. I shouldn't have, but I got Ivan to pull up surveillance to listen in. And he hacked your phone to hear who you were talking to. I had him record it and send it to my phone. I think you should hear it."

His hands had a fine tremor as he went to her home screen. The background caught him by surprise. It was the two of them at his house in Phoenix. They were in the pool his back against the wall and her body wrapped around his. She looked happy. _He_ looked happy.

His head started to pound and his vision blurred at the edges.

He quickly went into her messages. The pain lessened once the image was gone. He tapped on Ivan's name and opened the attachment in his last message.

 _'_ _I need answers, Ebony. You swore to me that I didn't know the target. But I do. And I need to know how it is that I forgot that.'_

 _'_ _James, I don't know what happened to you before you came to be with us. The trauma of your past is your own to bear. But if this is a conflict of interest we need to know. The Director is trusting you and if something is changing for you…'_

 _'_ _So you don't know my history with this woman?'_

 _'_ _You never shared that history with us. And you never gave us the impression that you knew her. We acted accordingly. Something has come up that needs my attention. Cyan will speak with you now. Be at peace.'_

 _'_ _James.'_

 _'_ _Cyan.'_

 _'_ _Novi Animum.'_ His eyes went to Tara, confused.

 _'_ _James.'_ He looked back at the phone.

 _'_ _Cyan.'_

 _'_ _I called because the time until extraction is getting closer. Are you ready?'_

 _'_ _Things are going well. I have to go, I just got to a friend's house. We can talk more later.'_

"You were so agitated when you were talking to Ebony. But the second Cyan said those words you were calm. Like she had flipped a switch." He could hear Teresa- _Tara? -_ speaking, but his mind was trying to wrap itself around what he had just heard. What he had just seen. "You remembered me. And then you got off the phone and it was like nothing had happened. You came in and everything was like usual."

Her phone started vibrating and Javier's name popped up on the screen. He held it out to her, grateful for the distraction. Except she didn't step out to take it. She answered the phone and put it on speaker.

 _"_ _What the hell Teresa? Where are you?'_

"I needed some air. I went for a drive."

 _"_ _To James' hotel? Alone?"_

James tried to ignore the annoyance at the tone Javier was using. No matter what his job was, he wouldn't hurt an unarmed woman.

 _"_ _Look I know you have feelings for the guy. Nine months of search parties let me in on that one. But he doesn't know you. And we don't know what his mission is. So until we can trust him you need to be careful. I'm coming to get you."_

James tried to keep his mind from sticking on that first sentence. Which was easy because it was caught on the second. _Nine months?_ She had looked for him for nine months?

"I'm perfectly safe. James won't hurt me. I'm unarmed." Her words brought him back to the conversation. She was so sure of him, she hadn't used her words as a warning or a test. She was letting Javier know that she trusted James. He couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

 _"_ _Teresa…"_

She hung up, slipping the phone into the pocket of her jeans.

"That was stupid. I could kill you and you would have no way to stop me."

She rolled her eyes in annoyance but it was ruined by the smile that graced her lips. "I can't count the number of times you've yelled at me for being reckless." Her smile widened as she spoke. But it faded a moment later. "I don't know what you're going through. I don't know what happened to you. But you aren't alone, James. I'm here for you in whatever way you need me to be. And I will keep reminding you every time they make you forget."

He tensed as she stepped closer to him. She was so close that if he moved his hand he would brush the fabric of her sweater. She brought her hand up to gently caress his cheek. The sensation was startlingly new, but there was an aching familiarity to it as well. One he had to fight not to lean into. She leaned up on her toes, and brushed her lips to the corner of his mouth.

 _'_ _This is my favorite part,' she whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. 'When its quiet and we're together like this. I feel safe. You make me feel safe.'_

His eyes opened and he turned to look at the woman beside him. She looked nervous, like she was afraid she had overstepped. He wasn't sure if she had or not. Nine months of searching. All of this time trying to create a new normal for him _._ That meant something- he just didn't know _what._

Her hand fell away from him and she stepped away. He didn't stop her. He didn't want to. Too much had been said. He needed to think. Her hand wrapped around the doorknob letting the night air in. "Goodnight James," she whispered. Then she was gone.

The room was too quiet, the air too thick. He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing at his beard. The pain was still there, a dull ached behind his eyes. The same pain he had felt earlier. The same pain he had been pushing away the last two weeks. Pain that only came when he thought about her.

His phone rang.

It was Cyan.

* * *

They needed to remedy this. Mendoza had revealed too much. She needed to be brought in.

The Director watched as James picked up his phone. Cyan was speaking to him, engaging him in the usual conversation.

James responded accordingly.

But he was watching the room. He knew they were watching him now.

The Director waited for Cyan to say the words. Waited for James to fall back into the soldier that he needed to be.

She didn't have the chance. He finished his report- every word of it true- and ended the call. It was no more or less abrupt than usual. And yet, the Director sensed a new defiance.

Defiance was not tolerated. James would have to be dealt with.

This mission could not fail.

* * *

 **A/N: So I like the idea of the J and T knowing what's up. Will it last? Eh. Not to be team Director or anything (ew, no, never) but he should have listened to Cyan. She knew last chapter what was gonna happen.**


	10. Chapter 10

She made it back to the compound safely. Javier had met her on the road and followed her back to make sure. Pote had been at the car before she had turned the engine off. She knew it had been a risk going to see James, but she didn't regret it. And she wasn't going to let Pote or Javier make her feel bad for doing what she thought was right.

"I know what you're going to say. But it's done. He knows the truth now and I'm fine."

Pote looked like he was willing to believe her, but Javier still seemed on edge. Teresa had a feeling it was more to do with his feelings for her than it had to do with James being a threat. She hoped she was wrong. Her time with Javier had been fun, easy, but it had never meant anything more than that to her. And she had tried to make that clear to him from the start.

She moved to walk into the house when Javier caught her arm. Pote took a step closer ready to protect her if need be, but Teresa knew Javier wasn't a danger to her. Still, she slowly pulled her arm away and hardened her expression before turning back to face him.

"Next time you want to sneak out in the middle of the night, tell someone." She raised a brow at the order. No matter their history she was still in charge. But before she could say anything he continued. "You may trust him, but he isn't in control. You saw it yourself. So maybe think about who else might be pulling his puppet strings before you put all of us at risk."

He turned and stalked passed her as if her presence was offensive to him. She knew the opposite was true. And now he was acting out because he was worried and insecure. But Teresa had a business to run. She had to help James break the hold these people had over him. She couldn't afford to coddle Javier's feelings right now.

She felt Pote step up beside her. She didn't need to look at him to know he agreed. "It's late, you need to rest Teresita." A deep sigh of relief left her at the out her friend had given her. She wasn't ready to talk about anything yet. Reaching out she grabbed blindly for Pote's hand. He squeezed her hand and she felt some of the tension she had been carrying since she first left the house dissipate a little. She pulled her hand away and walked into the house, Pote right behind her. They could figure things out in the morning.

She hoped James remembered their conversation in the morning.

* * *

She didn't sleep.

She had expected the emotional drain of the night to wipe her out as soon as she got to her room. But that never happened. Instead she found herself tossing and turning for hours. Her mind kept circling from one thing to the next but always coming back to James.

And not the James she had seen a few hours ago. No she kept seeing the man she met that first day in Dallas. The way he had barely paid any attention to her inside the warehouse. The way he was so focused on getting his job done. Until the roadblock. Then his entire focus was on her- keeping her alive.

She had fought him, of course. She was sick of men she didn't know telling her what was best for her. Epifanio, Pote, Gato, they had all known 'what she needed'. And then this guy, who couldn't be bothered to even say more than two words to her that weren't about the job, wanted her to ruin the only option for survival she had?

But she had heard the desperation in his voice when he talked about the other girls who had died. She had seen the panic in his eyes when he said he wasn't having it again. And the fact that this cold, hard man was willing to blow the job just to keep her breathing when he didn't even know her? It had been the first moment since she was told Guero was dead that she had thought maybe there was still some hope in the world.

And he didn't remember that.

Her mind took her to the day she came back after taking the maid back to Mexico. He had covered for her, for almost 24 hours. And he had lied to Camila to protect her. James, the man who held loyalty above everything else, had betrayed the trust of his boss for a girl who had been nothing but trouble for him.

And he didn't remember.

Their first kiss- when he had been so full of guilt and shame and pain. He hadn't been able to see all of the good that she saw when she looked at him. It had been so soft, _he_ had been so soft. It still amazed her how he could be so hard around other people. Because now that she knew him, she saw how much he actually cared. Maybe it was because he had always been a little gentler with her.

When he forced her to watch the destruction their world caused, it wasn't cruelty or callousness. He was trying to prepare her for the harder things that he knew she would have to face. When he kept pushing her and pushing her to let go of her humanity, it wasn't because he had lost his. It was because he knew how much each choice ate at your soul.

It was so clear looking back.

Everything he had done was to protect her- body and soul. And she had never noticed.

She threw the covers off of her and got out of the bed. There was no point in just lying there. She wasn't sleeping, her mind wasn't at ease. She needed to move before she got sucked into the memories so deep she couldn't crawl back out.

The house was quiet, probably because everyone thought she was asleep. Teresa didn't mind, she needed the quiet to soothe her frayed nerves. Walking into the kitchen she reached for the gun she kept under the table. The door to the patio was open and she could see an unfamiliar person sitting in one of the lawn chairs.

Stepping carefully outside she raised the gun making sure the safety was off. Whoever was out there either hadn't heard her, or didn't care that she was there. Neither of those options made Teresa feel better. She took another step stopping right behind the chair the stranger was sitting in.

"Teresa Mendoza. I have been waiting to meet you for quite some time."

* * *

Her brows furrowed in confusion. How did this person know her name? She took her eyes off of the intruder and scanned the area again, now that she could see more clearly. No one else was there that she could see. But that didn't really mean anything. James had taught her that.

"No one else is here. We are completely alone. Your men were given a sedative. They won't be joining us for a while."

Teresa froze. _How did he get past all of the guards?_ She pressed the barrel of the gun to his skull, ready to end this game he was playing. A flash of red caught her eye. Then she saw it- a red dot sitting right over her heart. _Sniper_.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more clear. My people _are_ watching us, but they cannot hear our conversation. In that we are alone."

Her mind was racing, trying to figure out who this person could be. She needed to buy time, give Pote or Javier or anyone a chance to wake up. Give herself time to come up with a way out of this. Slowly she pulled the gun away noticing that the red dot disappeared. She knew whoever was out there still had her in their sights. She had to be careful.

"What do you want?"

The man gave a heavy sigh, as if he was disappointed by her question. He stood up and turned to face her. She had expected someone younger or less frail. But the man in front of her was neither. His hair was white with age, and he was eerily thin and pale. He had to be in his seventies, at least that's how he looked. But she couldn't underestimate him. He had been smart enough to get onto her property- _into her house_ \- without setting off any alarms. And he obviously had people with him. People ready and willing to kill for him.

"Teresa, you and I have something in common. James Valdez."

Her heart stopped. This was the man who had taken James. This was the person who had taken away his memories, erased entire parts of himself. She felt an unbridled anger rising in her. This _monster_ before her had _hurt_ James and she was powerless to do anything about it.

"Don't worry, he's safe. I have a team on their way to his hotel right now." The pleasant expression he had been wearing changed. Now he looked at her as if she were a little girl who had pulled the flowers out of the garden instead of the weeds. As if she were a harmless and naïve inconvenience. She hated him. "You made quite a mess last night. You made him question his mission- question _me_. Such defiance cannot be tolerated."

Her heart was pounding in her chest, so hard it hurt. They were going to take James. She had told him the truth and they were going to punish him for it. And she was stuck here, alone, with no back-up. There was no way for her to warn him. There was no way for her to escape. And if they had done this to him before she couldn't image what else they might do.

But he hadn't killed her yet. That confused her and gave her hope. Her brain sorted through everything he had said since she found him. _I have been waiting to meet you…_ He wanted her for something and he wanted her alive. She could use that. Maybe, if she could get him to trust her…

He bared his teeth in a facsimile of a smile. Her stomach clenched in disgust. "You are already using that brilliant mind, aren't you? Trying to find a way out of this situation." His eyes went bright as if he had just seen his god made flesh. "This is why you were chosen. You will do amazing things." She stared in shock at the way his body shook with excitement.

His hands reached out to her and she jumped back skin crawling where he had touched her. She hadn't raised the gun again, but she felt her finger twitch on the trigger. His smile dimmed and his eyes lost some of their excitment. But the crazed gleam was still there. She shifted on her feet ready to make a run for the house when a phone chimed.

The man pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, his eyes never leaving her face. She watched warily as he answered and put the call on speaker. "Speak."

There was a moment of silence on the other end before, _"You sent people to capture me."_ Teresa had to fight to keep the relief from showing on her face. He was alright. He was safe.

The man's eyebrows drew together in annoyance or confusion as he looked at the phone in his hand. "James, did you speak to Cyan? Or Ebony? They were supposed to inform you that they were coming." Teresa could see the lie on his face. But she kept quiet. She needed to get away and having this man distracted gave her a chance to run. She started to slowly- carefully- edge her way closer to the door

 _"_ _Where's Teresa Mendoza?"_

James' question stopped her in her tracks. She felt tears prick her eyelids. He was worried about her? He didn't even know her and he was worried about her safety.

The old man shifted his attention to her, noting the new distance between them. He held the phone out and signaled for her to speak. She didn't want to. She wanted to keep James' focus on himself on getting himself to safety. She knew that memories or not he wouldn't leave her with an enemy. Not after she had told him the truth.

Seeing that she wasn't going to say anything the man pulled the phone closer to him again. "The target is at her home. In fact, she is standing in front of me right now." Teresa heard James curse under his breath. She knew the information changed whatever plans he had already made for himself. "James, if you meet me here in the next 20 minutes, I can guarantee her life will be spared. But I need you to come back."

"James, don't. You need to get away from these people. Go, please." She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, but knew she failed. "You don't owe me anything, James. You can leave." The echo of her own voice saying similar words came to her and she closed her eyes in defeat. He hadn't left then either.

 _"_ _I'm on my way."_

* * *

He had stayed up all night.

He hadn't let Cyan talk long.

The video Teresa had shown him and the audio of his phone call… He couldn't be sure the phone call was legit, but the video had been. It had happened right in front of him and he didn't even remember it.

His mind had gone over every detail of his mission. Every piece of information they had given him about Tara Mendez had to be reevaluated. Because now he was seeing things differently. She had never hesitated when he called her Teresa. He knew that didn't mean much- she could be a really good actress. But it was a start, a loose thread he could use to unravel this mess.

The picture on her phone haunted him too. Ebony had told him specifically that she would see him as an old lover. That his appearance was similar to someone she knew. He hadn't questioned it then. But now, seeing himself so obviously happy with her. Knowing he must have trusted and cared for her a lot if he brought her to the house in Phoenix.

Ebony had been using his history with this woman to manipulate him. She had been taking truth and turning it into lies. And if she could do that so easily, with no hint of remorse, then could he trust anything that she had told him?

No. He couldn't.

It was nearly 6 in the morning and he still hadn't laid down to rest. He had paced his hotel room the entire night. James let his mind go to the phrase Teresa had used. The phrase Cyan had used. He was almost afraid to think it- afraid it would erase what he knew now and send him back into a state of forced ignorance.

But he pushed the fear aside. He needed to do this. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and typed the phrase into Google Translate. It was poetic, really. _A new mind._ It was bullshit. He had wanted to throw his phone into the wall. Smash it into a million pieces the way his reality was being shattered.

For months he had worked with these people. For months he had trained and fought and killed beside them. And it was all a damn lie. They had told him he didn't have anyone waiting for him. And he had believed it. He remembered Dallas and Kim leaving. He remembered being taken by Devon Finch. It made sense that he hadn't been seeing anyone.

But he also remembered the excruciating headaches he had when he thought about his time with the CIA for too long- when he tried to remember _how_ he got there. And he remembered how there was always this feeling that something was missing when he thought of Dallas. And now he knew what that something was.

And while he had been planning how to destroy her, she had been trying to save him.

* * *

He knew they were coming.

He had decided hours ago that it would be their smartest move. Take him out and grab Teresa at the same time. So he was ready. He had trained with them for long enough to know how they worked. And his time with the Cartels had made him less trusting than they were. Besides they thought they had the element of surprise.

They were wrong.

He had gone to the front desk knowing that the manager would be working the desk at that hour. He posed as a tourist needing a room. And just like he knew she would, the manager gave him the room directly below his. He had stashed an extra sniper rifle in the ceiling tiles while one of the housekeepers had been cleaning the room. He was glad for the extra precaution now.

He had snuck up to the roof to wait for the team to show up. Two were dead before they were fully out of the car. And because he was on the roof, he could had the best vantage point for miles. He saw the sniper they positioned two blocks away. Luca. James waited for him to line up his shot, then fired.

The bullet buried itself between Luca's eyes.

He saw Cyan exit one of the other two cars and make her way into the hotel. He knew he couldn't trust her but he needed answers. He finished the rest of the team off easily walking away with a graze on one arm and a bullet lodged in his abdomen. It hurt like a bitch, but he didn't stop. He'd had worse and kept going. And there was no time to slow down now.

He made his way back to his hotel room, hand over his side to slow the bleeding a little. The door was open and Cyan was seated on his bed. Her posture was perfect as usual, her hair perfectly styled in a sleek bun. She wore her usual navy blue pantsuit, the crisp white blouse a sharp contrast to the darker fabric of the suit. Everything about her was the same to him. Except now instead of respect and camaraderie he only felt disdain and disgust.

"I see that you have finally regained control." James let his free hand go to the gun tucked into his waistband. Even though she was unarmed, he felt more threatened than he had when people were actively shooting at him. She didn't miss the move. She didn't miss anything. "I know this must seem like a betrayal. I know that this has to be hard to understand. But James, everything that was done was done to make you better."

He held in a scoff but his mouth still curled up into a sneer. Did she really think he would believe that? There was no way that taking his memories, manipulating his choices, was to make him better. This was about them turning him into their puppet. Something they could command who would obey without question. They wanted loyalty but they hadn't done anything to earn it.

"You have five seconds to tell me what you want with Teresa Mendoza. Then I'm going to kill you." It was a risk. It was a huge risk. He was giving her the chance to erase everything he had learned. But he couldn't kill her without giving her a chance to explain. Because no matter what had happened, he actually _remembered_ his relationship with her. He knew that she had been there when nightmares kept him up- a kind face, a gentle voice reminding him that he was safe.

It was a lie- he knew that now- but it still felt like friendship.

The serene appearance she had never wavered. There was no fear or worry in her eyes. It made him wonder if maybe they had done something to her like they had to him- if there was a more severe version. She tilted her head slightly, "I am willing to die for this mission, James. There is no higher honor for me than that. But I will give you the answers you seek." He was a little surprised that she was complying, but he let it go and gestured for her to go on. "We wish to add Ms. Mendoza to our collection- the select group of people who will be most beneficial in our work. Her mind is brilliant. She is an excellent strategist and we need that unique skill in our mission."

James narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what she was talking about. He had been with them for months and he had never heard of an alternate mission. And if they had messed with his mind, had they done that to other people they needed in this 'collection'? Were they going to do it to Teresa? He may not remember her but he wasn't about to let them use her that way. She didn't deserve it.

"I've answered you question. Are you still going to kill me, James? Are you willing to betray the mission as well as the people who took you in?" He pulled the gun from his waistband. Her words fueling a rage he had been trying to suppress since Teresa told him the truth.

"You didn't take me in. You kidnapped me and turned my mind against me for your own purposes." A flash of fear appeared in Cyan's eyes before it was gone again, replaced with the calm façade he was used to seeing her wear. But he knew now. She wasn't so calm, she wasn't so sure of herself. She opened her mouth and he knew she was about to say the words- the words that would make him forget.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

He grabbed his weapons and loaded them into his car.

He left the bodies. They weren't his mess to clean up.

Police were everywhere as he got onto the main road. He had left the hotel from a different entrance then took a few back roads he had mapped out when he first got to Brazil. To anyone casually observing it looked like he was coming from the other side of town.

He stopped at a service station, one with an outside bathroom. After picking the lock he used the First-Aid kit he had to clean his wounds as best he could. It was tough, but he had dealt with worse injuries. He put some antibiotic on his arm and covered it with a bandage. The bullet in his side was harder. He decided to multitask with that one- distract himself.

He called the Director.

 _"_ _Speak."_

He bristled at the Director's tone- like he was a dog to command. He pushed down the rage letting it numb the pain as he stuck a pair of tweezers into his side. His words came out through gritted teeth.

"You sent people to capture me."

A long moment of silence and then, _"James, did you speak to Cyan? Or Ebony? They were supposed to inform you that they were_ _coming."_ James rolled his eyes at the ploy. They both knew he was supposed to be dead right now. The fact that they were speaking was probably grating on the Director's nerves. James wasn't playing these games.

"Where's Teresa Mendoza?"

He dug the tweezers in a little farther- jaw clenched tight enough it hurt. His hands were starting to shake and he was losing too much blood. He tried to focus on keeping his breathing even as he pressed a little harder.

 _"_ _The target is at her home. In fact, she is standing in front of me right now."_

 _Fuck!_ That was not what he needed. The tweezers hit the edge of the bullet reminding him of what he was doing before his brain could go into a spiral of all the ways this day could end badly. He was getting lightheaded so this had to go quickly. He caught the bullet, trying to use just enough force. He didn't need it to slip.

 _"_ _James, if you meet me here in the next 20 minutes, I can guarantee her life will be spared. But I_ _need you to come back."_

Those words sounded familiar- like he had said them once. But he couldn't remember. Which meant it probably had something to do with Teresa. The rage was back. He hadn't noticed it fading but he felt it now. All of this secrecy and manipulation, and for what? What the hell was their goal?

It didn't matter. He needed to finish this. He needed to make sure that they didn't take her. She may not be a saint, but she was innocent in this. And he owed it to her- to their history- to get her out of this mess. He pulled the bullet out- grabbed a piece of gauze to plug the wound until he could stitch it up properly.

He had just started wrapping his side when he heard her.

 _"_ _James, don't."_ He could hear the fear in her voice. He closed his eyes to block the pain that always came with her. He counted to ten to keep her fear from making him reckless. _"You need to get away from these people. Go, please."_

How could he not have seen it? It was right there- so obvious. He shook his head, trying to decide if he could do what she was asking him to do.

 _"_ _You don't owe me anything, James. You can leave."_

 _'_ _I'm not leaving. I'm just trying to protect you…to protect us.'_

He remembered that clearly. Her eyes were bloodshot. _Had she not been sleeping?_ He remembered feeling like he was losing her. She told him he could go and he hadn't known what else to say to make her understand. Now hearing almost those same words from this same woman… Knowing this time _she_ was trying to protect _him_?

The decision was made.

"I'm on my way."


	11. Chapter 11

He walked into the house slowly.

It was too quiet. Where were her people? He closed the front door behind him, but kept it unlocked- they might need to run. The living room was empty- the hallway, too. He crept forward towards the kitchen, scanning the area outside through the windows. Nothing.

He turned into the kitchen and there she was.

The Director was seated on a lawn chair, seemingly unconcerned that his plans weren't going the way he wanted. Teresa was standing directly in front of the sliding door to the kitchen, gun hanging at her side. If she was armed but hadn't killed the Director that meant someone else was there.

James rapped his knuckles on the island as he passed it, letting her know he was there. He watched the tension in her shoulders release for a moment before it returned, her grip tightening on the gun she held. For a second he wondered if it was a trap, if she had been a part of the Director's plan all along. He moved his finger to the trigger.

Then she turned her head to look at him.

It wasn't a trap. She had relaxed because he was there and she felt safe. It was written on her face. So was the fact that she was terrified for him. It was so odd having someone care so much for him. And to be able to look at her and know what she was thinking- he may not remember her, but a part of him still knew her.

He gave her a small nod of reassurance before turning his attention to the Director. He took in the man's relaxed posture- the way he held himself as if James' bullet couldn't kill him. James trigger finger itched to prove him wrong.

"Cyan was right." James kept his face neutral. He knew it was something that bothered the other man. The tightening of the Director's jaw told him that the action had the desired effect. Still the man went on. "She warned me to bring you back. She said that your memories were resurfacing. But you hadn't completed your mission."

The Director's eyes went to Teresa and James moved to stand in front of her, blocking her form view. He watched as the Director's lips curled into a smile. "I chose you because of your loyalty and strength as a soldier, James. And those qualities are what have turned you against our cause." But the smile didn't waver. In fact if grew wider, as if the old man had won some great prize.

James heard the hiss of something flying passed him and whirled around to face Teresa. Her face was contorted in a mask of pain and his heart stopped for a moment before he started searching her body for a bullet wound. Instead he found a tranquilizer dart sticking out of her left thigh. He tossed his gun onto one of the lawn chairs just in time to catch her as she fell.

Her hand came up to touch his face, but it was clumsy, her body already losing to the drugs in her system.

"You're here…" He held her tighter, sitting on the ground so she could rest against him. He saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I m-missed y-you…" Her hand slid from his face down his chest stopping over his sternum. He felt her fingertips pressing into his skin, as if she was trying to push her words into heart. "James? Don't leave me…"

"Shh. You're gonna be fine. Okay? I'm with you." He watched as her eyes fell closed and a soft smile lifted the corners of her lips. Then she was out. He let his fingers go to her neck, checking the steadiness of her pulse. Then he turned back to the Director.

The man was still on the lawn chair. James' gun was still where he had tossed it. A reckless move-dangerous. But he didn't regret it. "You two will be unstoppable. Her mind and your will. No one will be able to stand against our cause."

James was sick of all the cryptic bullshit. He wanted to put a bullet between this guy's eyes and be done with this mess. He gently laid Teresa down before standing to face the Director again. He knew whoever had sent that dart wouldn't let him go for his gun. But he didn't really need it. He could take the old man in a fight anyway.

He wasn't going to fight him though. "You said if I showed, you'd leave her alone. I'm here. Let's go."

But the Director didn't move. He just smiled. "I said her life would be spared. And it will be. But she is too valuable to us."

James heard the hiss of another dart. A sharp stinging pain in his right bicep let him know he had been hit too. He made himself sit down, leaning against a chair to keep from falling. He could feel his legs and hands going numb, could feel the dizziness taking over. His eyes went to Teresa, counting the rise and fall of her chest. She was breathing. She was okay.

The Director's shadow fell over him and James let his eyes leave Teresa. He looked up at the man standing over him. But it was getting harder to keep his eyes open.

"Don't worry, James. In time you will understand everything."

The world tilted sideways and went black.

He heard Teresa's voice.

 _'_ _Don't leave me.'_

* * *

She woke slowly.

Her head was killing her and her mouth felt like dry cotton. She blinked her eyes open. Once. Twice. The room was metal. _A shipping container?_ She lifted her head slowly, trying to reduce the nausea swirling in her stomach.

The room was dim, a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. But she could see enough to know she couldn't get out. The door was completely smooth. If there was a lock- which she knew there had to be- it was on the outside. There were no windows, nothing to tell her the time of day.

She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the cot she was on. She needed to focus. What was the last thing she remembered? James. She had been with James. At a pool? She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose trying to get a clear image in her mind.

She had been at the pool. Outside of her kitchen. An old man was there. Where was Pote? She blinked rapidly as more images came- her mind piecing things together. Sedative…The old man had given her guards a sedative. A sniper she couldn't see. It was all fuzzy.

Except for James.

He was clear. He had come for her. It was stupid- they could have killed him or erased his memories. He shouldn't have shown up. But he did. Then there was pain in her leg and she had been falling. But James caught her. He had been so close she could feel his warmth seeping into her. Then everything went black.

And now she was here. The need to escape was overwhelming but she pushed it down. She had to stay calm. She had to reserve her energy. Because the second that door opened she needed to be ready to fight. Teresa looked around again noticing the camera in the corner of the ceiling she had missed before. _So they were watching._ She was doubly glad that she hadn't panicked. She couldn't give them any sign of weakness.

Then the door was opening and a woman walked in. She was wearing all black except for a perfectly white blouse. Teresa immediately didn't like her. But she kept her face neutral. The woman seemed to be taking Teresa in, evaluating her. Apparently she didn't think too highly of her, either, the woman's expression took on a disdainful sneer.

"You have caused a number of problems, Teresa Mendoza," the woman started. She took a step closer to where Teresa sat, motioning for someone in the hall to come inside. A guard brought James into the room. He was bleeding and bruised and she wasn't thrilled about the way he was holding his left hand to his chest.

She let herself meet his eyes and her breath hitched at the anger and determination she saw there. And it wasn't directed at her. Every atom of James' being was focused on the woman in black. Determined was James' default setting, she was used to that fierceness that came over him. But Teresa hadn't seen him this angry before- she hadn't seen him angry very much in general. But this was different- this was unfettered rage and Teresa was almost frightened by it. She glanced back at the woman. If she noticed James' demeanor, she didn't care. She was still quietly watching Teresa and the intensity of her gaze left an unsettling feeling in Teresa's stomach.

"Things have gone awry since your visit to James' hotel room. And we have had to do an extensive amount of damage control." She paused in her speech as if waiting for Teresa to apologize or something. When no such words were forthcoming the woman's lips pursed in annoyance and her eyes narrowed- cold and calculating. "Because of the relationship you have with Mr. Valdez, I have come to the conclusion that it would be more beneficial for you to see how we initiate people into our mission."

The guards who had been holding James forced him into a chair that Teresa hadn't noticed being brought in. One of them zip-tied his feet to the legs of the chair while the other pulled his hands through the bars of the chair and zip-tied them behind his back.

Not once did James look at her. Not once did he look anywhere but at the woman in black.

The guards made their way to where she sat on the cot. Rough hands pulled her up and forced her to stand in front of James. Another guard came in with another chair. She was pushed down into it and tied up the same way James had been. Now his eyes left the woman. His eyes raked over her as if seeing her for the first time. Teresa's stomach clenched at the flare of rage in his eyes as they locked on to the ties cutting into the skin of her ankles. She looked away when his eyes finally met hers. She wasn't ready. Being this angry on her behalf…it made her feel like maybe he still cared and she couldn't afford that right now.

She turned her attention to the guards as they filed out of the room. Now it was just the three of them- her, James, and the woman.

Reaching into the inside pocket of her suit jacket the woman pulled out a long, sharp dagger. She stepped behind Teresa's chair, pressing the blade lightly against her throat. Teresa felt her heart beating faster, she tried to keep her breathing even though. But her eyes locked onto James and she knew he could see her fear. The way his jaw tightened and his shoulders tensed told her that she probably wasn't fooling anyone as much as she hoped she was. The woman pressed a little harder, breaking skin.

"The journey to Honor is painful. I will guide you through it."


	12. Chapter 12

_"The journey to Honor is painful. I will guide you through it."_

He had a vague memory of Ebony saying those same words to him. It was hazy, but the overwhelming sense of dread that comes over him, lets James know that this isn't going to be pleasant. He had been avoiding Teresa's eyes. He had woken up to new memories and he was having a hard time reconciling everything going on in his mind with the events unfolding around him.

And he couldn't handle seeing how scared she was. She was fighting it, trying to keep it hidden, but he still saw it. It was in the way her eyes got just that much wider, the way her breathing slowed too much in an attempt to keep it steady. But mostly he could see the way her pulse quickened-the vein in her neck moving more rapidly. It made the hold he had on his rage slip a little. These people had taken him, brainwashed him, made him _forget_ and now they were ready to hurt the one person who had always had his best interest in mind.

Loyalty was important to James- it had been that way since he was a kid. His dad had left them when James was little, going to his second family and leaving James, his mother, and little sister to fend for themselves. Then his mother's anger at his father had turned to anger at James. She had stopped trying to be a mother. She had stopped trying to hide the darkness inside of her. So James had turned to his friends, started dragging his baby sister to sleepovers even though he hated seeing the pity on the faces of his friends' parents. But he had put up with it. Because he wasn't his dad- he didn't abandon his family. And he wasn't his mom- he wasn't going to turn on his sister.

James had worked hard to get out of that situation. And he had worked even harder to be worth his friends keeping around. He had been loyal no matter what. And that never left him. So to have these people use his sense of loyalty- this thing he had to scrape and fight for- against him… Even if he never remembered another thing about his time with Teresa, he was going to make sure she got out of this alive and in control of her own mind. Then he was going to destroy their entire organization.

He was pulled back to the moment when Teresa let out a pained gasp. Ebony had pressed the blade deeper, running it down from her throat to her shoulder leaving a thin line of dark crimson blood in its wake. James tightened his fists, trying to loosen the zip-ties even though he knew it would be nearly impossible to break them. But the feeling of dread kept building in him.

Ebony nodded to the camera in the corner signaling to whoever was watching this 'meeting' before a screen lowered from the ceiling. Using the tip of her blade, Ebony turned Teresa's head to face the screen. James did the same. His eyes narrowed in confusion before he let them fall closed in defeat. Then he opened them again, because he couldn't ignore what was happening on the screen.

He was in a room similar to the one they were currently in. Ebony and Cyan were there, standing next to a cot. A cot he was tied down to. The video had been silent but suddenly audio played through the speakers flooding the room with the sound of Teresa screaming his name. It was methodical the way Cyan and Ebony moved. Ebony was choking him with a liquid. As he watched James could suddenly smell the bleach that had burned in his nostrils. Cyan was wringing water onto his chest before placing the shock baton to his wet skin. He remembered the pain, the lack of oxygen, the lack of control. It had been unbearable. But in the background there was always Teresa calling out for him, screaming his name.

He let his eyes leave the screen again, turning to look at the woman tied up in front of him. She looked devastated. A steady stream of tears winding down her cheeks dropping onto her shirt and soaking into the material. Ebony was still dancing her dagger along Teresa's skin, but James knew she didn't feel it anymore. Her entire focus was on the images on the screen.

"You were very useful to us from the very beginning, Ms. Mendoza." James flinched at hearing Ebony refer to Teresa by that name. It was confirmation that they had been lying to him from the start. He had already known, but somehow it still felt like a new betrayal. He kept his eyes on Teresa though. The devastation was still clear on her face, but now he could see other things too. The anger at them using her to break him, the hopelessness at not being able to stop it. And guilt. He had enough experience with that feeling to recognize it in all of its forms. And Teresa wasn't trying to hide hers. "It took weeks, months really, to make him forget you- to get him to a point where your name brought nothing to mind. We never could have gotten him to do what we needed without you."

It was a taunt. It was cruelty for no reason. No, there was a reason- they wanted to break her. With each tear that fell James felt angrier and each glimpse at that screen brought back the memories of the pain. And every time he looked at Ebony her blade was leaving trails of blood on Teresa's skin. It seemed to go one forever. Ebony adding commentary, Teresa trying not to let the tremors in her fingers spread to her entire body, and James planning all of the ways he could get her out of here- get her away from these people he had so recently seen as friends.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. The sound was cut, the screen gone black before rolling back to the ceiling. Ebony cut Teresa's ties, although she was still too shocked to move. James hoped he could bring her out of that. They needed to figure out a plan. Stepping over to him, Ebony released him from his own ties. She waited several seconds-until Teresa was facing them- then she gently caressed his face.

 _He could hear Teresa's voice speaking softly in the background. He knew she was smiling even though he couldn't see her. It was in her voice, in how warm it was at that moment. Gentle hands ran through his curls, the way Teresa's had when they were in bed together. He felt himself relaxing, giving in to the false comfort just for a moment._

"I could take your memories again." Her voice was pitched low- almost seductive in its sultriness. Ebony had leaned into James' space- her lips brushing his ear as she spoke. "I could take you away from her all over again and you wouldn't even know it." He kept his eyes straight ahead, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction from him. Her hand slid from his face to the pulse of his carotid adding just enough pressure- a threat guised as affection. Then she straightened and let her hand fall away from him. She walked to the door, pausing as she waited for it to open.

"You are a part of this mission. It is Destiny. The only way to escape this path is to succeed or to die. May your choice be a wise one."

Then she was gone- the door slamming with an ominous finality.

* * *

The tears had long since dried on her cheeks. She could still see him- the way they had hurt him- if she closed her eyes. So she didn't close her eyes. But wakefulness was only the _lesser_ of two evils. Because she was trapped in a labyrinth of guilt. Each direction her mind took, each thought she had of escape was blocked by the knowledge that they had used his feelings for her to hurt him. She had seen the way he had reacted when her screams had first come through the speakers. She saw the way he had instinctively fought to get to her- protect her. How could she ever make up for the pain he had endured? How could she expect him to ever trust her again, feel safe with her again?

She knew that it wasn't really her fault. She knew that there was nothing she could have done to stop it. But knowing didn't make her feel any better. And having the images in her brain just brought back all of the terrified, hopeless feelings she'd had while she was searching for him.

James had gotten up hours ago- at least she thought it was hours. He had used the hem of his t-shirt to dab at the cuts the woman- Ebony, he said her name was- had left on her. She hadn't felt them in the moment, but once the adrenaline had worn off there was no hiding the pain coursing through her. She ignored it though, refused to flinch as he cleaned them as best he could. After what he had gone through, she didn't deserve to complain.

Now he was sitting in the chair she had been tied to, while she laid on the cot. She had tried to let him take it, but he had refused. _Some things don't change._ So she stared at the ceiling pretending she couldn't feel his eyes on her. Pretending that she didn't know he was worried. He shouldn't be worried about her. These people could take everything from him. He should be worried about himself.

"I am worried about myself." His voice breaking the silence after so long startled her. The fact that he was responding to her made her cheeks warm with embarrassment. She rarely let her thoughts slip out without permission. It was the stress, the exhaustion from the events of the last few days. She turned her head to face James properly and nearly jumped when she saw how close he actually was. "I can worry about myself and still want to make sure you're okay."

He was whispering, but she could still hear him. Her eyes slid to the camera in the corner wondering how well their microphones picked up sound. Then she decided she didn't care. They obviously knew how she felt about him already. There was no point in her trying to hide it. "I'm so sorry, James." Her voice was cracking, faltering under the weight of her words. She was sorry for letting him go all those months ago. She was sorry for not looking for him sooner. She was sorry for not finding him before these people took him. She was sorry they used her to hurt him. She was so sorry she was sick with it.

But she didn't know how to say that. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He may know the truth now, but he didn't feel it the way she did. And she couldn't force her feelings on him- she wouldn't. But in typical James fashion he leaned back in the chair, waving her apology away. "What happened isn't on you. You didn't know." He paused for a moment and she thought he was finished speaking. She was just about to turn back to the ceiling when he continued.

"You know, I do remember some things." Her heart slowed for several long seconds before returning to its normal rate then beating that much faster. "I remember you telling me I was a good person." She closed her eyes against the sharp pain that came with that memory. She remembered that day too- remembered the way his voice had gone so soft when he told her they were in it together.

"I remember you telling me I wasn't obligated to you, but me staying anyway." Regret mixed with bile and rose in her throat. She forced it down. "I remember lying in bed with you, talking." He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and Teresa she let her eyes blink open to look at him. "Why did I leave? What went wrong with us?"

Now it was her turn to take a breath. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to find the words to explain. Her mistrust, her accusations, Devon's deal, the ambush- there was so much he needed to know. So much that only made her feel worse. He had proven his loyalty over and over and because of her doubts she had lost him.

She cleared her throat giving herself that extra second before she spoke. "You left to protect me." She watched James take in the information, watched him weight it against what he knew of himself, watched him believe it. "I had to go back to Bolivia, work things out with my supplier- El Santo." His eyebrows quirked up in surprise but she didn't elaborate. They could do details later. "Someone put a tracker on me and led Devon Finch to the meet. Only me and El Santo made it out alive." James jaw twitched and she watched him run his hand down his face.

 _Nervous habit_.

"I thought it was you. I let myself be convinced it was you. It wasn't. But then you decided to leave." She took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to keep going- to tell him the rest. "I thought it was because of Bolivia. Then Ivan told me the truth. You went with Devon Finch to keep him away from me, to keep him away from my business." She pressed her palms to her eyes as her emotions got the best of her. "I was so stupid. I should have asked more questions. I should have looked for you!"

James' hand gently took hold of her wrists pulling her hands from her face. Then he turned her to face him. She couldn't make herself look at him, she didn't want to see kindness in his eyes, but she wasn't sure she could handle his anger right then either. In the end she didn't have a choice but to look at him. She couldn't have stopped herself.

"I don't regret trying to keep you safe." Her eyes flew to his immediately. How could he say that? After everything that he had been through because of her, how could he mean it? "I may not remember everything, but I remember enough. I remember some of how I felt with you- safe, cared for. I haven't had that a lot in my life." Her fingers wanted to reach out to him, to smooth the crinkle between his brows that he got sometimes. Instead he was the one holding her hand, brushing his thumb along the inside of her wrist.

It felt like forgiveness. It felt like mercy.

"I don't deserve this- not from you." But she was too selfish to pull her hand away. James' lips quirked up into a small smile. It was his secret smile, the one only she ever got to see. The one he gave her right before she fell asleep at night or when she was trying not to wake up in the mornings. It was the smile she felt was only hers.

"Everyone deserves it, Teresa." Her breath caught at her own words coming to her from him. She couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

And as her tears fell, James never let go of her hand.

She fell asleep to his beautiful brown eyes, his voice soothing the ache she had been carrying each night she slept without him.

"You're safe, Teresa. I've got you."


	13. Chapter 13

She had nightmares about him.

After she had finally fallen asleep James had stayed awake. He needed to be ready for whatever came through that door. She had been fine at first. Then her breathing had changed, she had gotten restless. He hadn't known what to do. No matter what they had been, it wasn't his place to comfort her, was it? So he had just kept holding her hand like he had been all along.

Until she said his name.

It was a broken, small whimper that he hoped to never hear again. Her grip had tightened on his hand and he had returned the gesture. But it hadn't helped. Soon enough she was thrashing on the narrow cot, begging brokenly for someone not to hurt him. Tears were slipping out of the corners of her closed eyes and her thrashing was making the cuts Ebony had given her bleed again.

So he did the only thing he could think of. He picked her up and settled her in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. His arms kept her still, but they were still loose enough that if she woke up she wouldn't feel trapped or suffocated. Then he was whispering words he hoped were comforting into her curls.

It was strange to feel her relax into him so completely. He knew she felt safe with him, knew she trusted him, but it was so obvious at that moment. She pressed herself into him more as if she could burrow into the safety he offered. It made his gut tighten with a mix of fear and contentment. He wanted her to always feel safe with him, but he also wanted to keep her as far from him as possible. She confused him, she made him feel things he didn't know what to do with. And the memories…

They were coming more quickly now. And they weren't just little snippets anymore. There were real, true memories with context and emotion. It was terrifying. Because so much was coming back to him, which meant they had taken so much away from him. The anger he felt was without measure, but as he remembered more and more, there was a sadness- a brokenness- that came to the surface too.

He remembered the first day he met the woman who was now sleeping peacefully in his arms. The desperation in her voice when she volunteered to be Camila's mule- it had made him want to protect her, even then. He remembered the deal with Lopez and how she had stood her ground even with a gun in her face, how she had chosen mercy over restitution. He remembered more than he was ready to deal with, honestly. And more kept coming- image after image, feeling after feeling.

He wished it would stop.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he had been holding her. There was no way to measure time in this place, but it had to have been a few hours. His wrist was killing him- he figured it was probably sprained- and this time they probably weren't going to give him anything to take the edge off. But it was his left hand, so he would be fine. It didn't help that most of Teresa's weight was on his left arm. But he couldn't change that and he wasn't ready to put her back on the cot.

Teresa had fallen into another nightmare not too long ago, her hand clutching at his shirt. He had held her tighter, hoping his presence would somehow filter into her dream and calm her down. And after a while it had. After her second dream she had started to wake up. He figured it would be better if she was in the same place she had started the night, so he put her back on the cot and sat back down, debating whether or not he should hold her hand again. He didn't. It felt like he would be overstepping somehow.

He watched as she woke up, not missing the way her hand blindly searched for him before she remembered where she was. Her eyes opened slowly as if she could keep reality at bay if she moved slow enough. But he knew it didn't work that way. Her eyes found his immediately and the uncertainty, the vulnerability he saw in them made his chest tight. He leaned forward and let his arms rest on his knees.

"How's the shoulder?" His voice was a little harsher than he meant for it to be, rough from lack of use. But if Teresa noticed it didn't show. In fact, it seemed as if she had disappeared into a different world. Her eyes were still on him, but James could tell she wasn't seeing him anymore. Before he could stop himself, his hand was reaching out, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Teresa, how's your shoulder?"

It came out softer that time. She looked _at_ him that time. He pulled his hand away, sat back in his chair. She rolled on to her back, letting her eyes go to the ceiling. "It's fine, I guess." He was about to ask for details, but she spoke before he could. "It hurts, but not too bad. I think I could hit someone if I needed to." She looked at him for a split second before turning away again. "You had that look- the 'I want more information' look."

He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But it never came. The door opened behind him and he turned to see who had come in. From the corner of his eyes he saw Teresa sitting up. Ebony walked in, a different style suit, but her usual color scheme. A flare of anger shot through James at the sight of her. There was a time- not that long ago- when he had seen her as a friend, an ally. There was a time when he would have done anything for her, been loyal to her. But it was all baseless- a fictitious web of softly spoken lies, and empty connections she had woven around him.

"The Director has asked for your presence this morning in his office." Her voice was the same and yet different to him. There was the same sense of serenity that had always been there, but now he could hear the coldness, the falseness in it. James' eyes never left her as she moved closer to where he and Teresa were. His body tensed- ready to stop her from getting closer. She noticed. She noticed everything. "James, I know this is hard for you, but you don't need to view me as the enemy."

He heard Teresa scoff behind him then the sound of her feet hitting the floor. She came around him, stepping right into Ebony's space. "You're not the enemy? No, you're just the people who stole him and tortured him and took away his memories." James slowly stood up, standing behind Teresa. He wanted to pull her back, keep her from doing something to set Ebony off, but he didn't.

James watched as Ebony barely glanced in Teresa's direction, her attention solely on him. Her face shifted into a mask of indulgent amusement, even as her eyes became colder. "Someone will provide you with fresh clothing and escort you to the restroom to clean yourself." Her eyes flicked to Teresa with that same false pleasantness. "You and I will resume our session, while James is occupied."

He didn't miss the way Teresa stiffened. He didn't miss the way she instinctively took a step closer to him. He didn't miss the way Ebony's smile became real in that moment. James took a half step closer, close enough that he could rest his hand at the small of Teresa's back without it being obvious to Ebony. He stayed there as Ebony walked out, the door falling closed with a click.

* * *

She couldn't breathe.

That woman had sauntered in like she was a queen, giving orders, pretending to care when everyone in that room knew she didn't. The way she had looked at Teresa as if she were nothing. The way she had tried to manipulate James like she cared about him…Teresa had wanted to rip her hair out, punch her until her own knuckles bled. She wanted her to feel the smallest sliver of the fear that Teresa felt.

They were taking him away again. Separating them as if they hadn't done that enough already. She couldn't let that happen- he was still too vulnerable. But there was nothing she could think of that would keep them together. And she knew he would follow along if it meant keeping her safe. She could see it in his eyes when she looked at him now.

He had taken a step back after Ebony had left, his hand falling from her body. She missed it, the reassuring weight of his palm pressed against her. James' touch had always been different to her. Guero had been possessive with his touch- almost as if he was afraid someone would steal her away. Javier had been playful, exaggerated, like to be anything else would scare her away- and maybe it would have. But James… His touch was like everything else about him: reassuring, steady, protective. She had missed that almost as much as she had missed him.

She forced herself to look away from him, knowing that her thoughts were visible on her face. She didn't want to burden him more than she already had. So she moved back to the cot, sitting on the edge with her eyes trained on the laces on her boots. Teresa knew he had stayed awake all night watching over her, prepared for anything these people might have tried to pull. She wondered if a part of him wished things were different. That maybe she hadn't told him about his memories.

"When she comes back, don't fight." Teresa tilted her head slightly- let him know she's listening. "It won't change anything, and it will only make you tired." He came to stand in front of her, waiting for her to look at him. But she couldn't. A piece of her was already shaken from the day before, from the weight of his kindness last night. She had to hold herself together and she couldn't do that and look at him. Not right now.

He must have understood. Somehow he always understood. "They aren't going to wipe my memory." Teresa bit her lip. She wanted to ask how he knew, ask for a promise he couldn't give. But she kept silent. "So don't worry about me. Focus on staying calm. No matter what you see you can't let it affect you."

Her hand reached out, grabbing his wrist. She felt him tense- saw the way his entire body froze for a moment. But it was only for a moment. Then he relaxed slipping free of her grasp, but letting their fingers lock together. She felt her breath catch in her throat, a sting behind her eyelids that she made herself ignore.

Until his other hand came to rest on the side of her face, cradling her jaw. He shuffled closer, into the space between her knees. James tilted her face up until her eyes met his. There was so much there, so much she hadn't seen in months. And it made her ache inside. But there was still so much missing. And the missing parts were the things that left an empty feeling in her chest. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his abdomen. The movement dislodged the hand on her jaw. She felt him hesitate for a moment before he let his fingers slide into her curls, holding her to him. Her free hand, the one not entwined with his, came up to hold the hem of his shirt.

He let out a sigh, his breathing slowing just enough for her to notice. "Just be careful, okay?" she whispered. She wasn't sure if he heard her, wasn't sure she wanted him to. But she had said the words before she could stop herself. His grip on her hand tightened, and she knew he had heard her. Pulling back she stared at the tearstain she had left on his shirt. "We have to get out of here, James. And I can't do it without you."

"Just worry about your session. The rest we figure out after." Then he was stepping back, his hand leaving her hair, their hands falling away from each other. She took a deep breath and nodded. _One thing at a time, Teresa._ Then as if he had known, the door opened and a guard walked in, Ebony right behind.

James had moved a respectable distance away, but Ebony still looked as if she had walked in on something private. Teresa remembered the camera in the corner. Maybe Ebony had seen their moment, maybe she thought she had more leverage than before. Eyes leaving the woman at the door, Teresa watched James leave. She closed her hand into a fist to keep from moving towards him. _He'll be fine._ She didn't really believe it, but it was better than letting her imagination take over.

The door closed

* * *

They turned on more videos. And each one was somehow worse than the one before. Ebony used it like background music, low enough that she could still be heard clearly. Teresa tried to ignore all of it, but she couldn't. She tried to focus on her shoes or the crack under the door- anything other than the images being projected on the screen beside her. But it was useless. She had to know, she had to see what they had done to him.

The electrical torture was a thing that they seemed to use on him often. And even though it never got easier for her to see, a part of Teresa became numb to it. But then another image would appear. He would be asleep, and then audio would begin playing over the speakers in his room. Gunfire, bombs, people screaming- it was a warzone. Then in the midst of the chaos, her voice would appear. Sometimes screaming for him, sometimes soothing and calm, but always at the worst of the mayhem. Those were the ones she truly hated. Because they weren't hurting him physically, they were manipulating things.

"Ms. Mendoza, I think that we can come to an agreement. You are an intelligent woman, you understand the need to prioritize. Let's work together." Teresa turned to look at the woman seated across from her. She had been speaking for a while now, but this was the first thing Teresa really _heard_.

She scrunched her nose is disgust as she took in Ebony's perfectly composed image. "What makes you think I would ever agree to anything you propose? It is obvious our _priorities_ don't line up at all." She expected Ebony to be annoyed, maybe angry, but that wasn't the case. Instead the woman appeared content with Teresa's answer. Which only made her more uncomfortable, more on edge.

Ebony glanced at the screen again, as if it were the news or something, before returning her focus to Teresa. "I think that our priorities line up more closely than you realize." The sounds from the speakers changed, catching Teresa's attention. James was sitting up in his bed, obviously just coming out of a nightmare. She could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, could hear the raggedness of his breathing. The hands that were fisting his sheets trembled. Whatever he had seen had been bad.

Then the door to his room opened. He tensed for a moment until he recognized who it was. Ebony. She was dressed in a thin cami and a little pair of sleep shorts. She only paused at his door for a moment before she climbed into the bed with him. Teresa tried to ignore the intimacy the scene in front of her presented. James didn't flinch away from Ebony's touch. He didn't seem surprised she was there. He seemed to welcome her presence. Then she was wrapping her arms around him, fingers running through his curls whispering soothing words that Teresa couldn't quite make out.

And he let her.

He held her close

When she kissed his forehead, when she let her hand leave his hair to trail across his chest, he let her. And then his hands were in her hair, and his lips were on hers, and Teresa couldn't stand to watch anymore. Because this woman, this _puta_ , had lied to him- _used him_. "He doesn't remember that. He never remembers what happened after his nightmares." Teresa could hear them even as she kept her eyes turned away. And she hated this woman more and more with each breath she took. "He thinks we're nothing but friends, but I knew that one day you would need to see just how far from his thoughts you were."

Teresa lunged.

Her hands were around Ebony's throat, squeezing, squeezing as tight as she could. She wanted her dead, she wanted to make sure that she could never ever hurt James again, _touch_ James again. But Ebony wasn't a weak little girl. She kicked Teresa off of her, the stilettos on her heels stabbing into Teresa's stomach. Then she was up, her hand wrapping around Teresa's hair as she swung her around. She hit the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of her, her head connecting with the metal wall.

"You stupid little girl." The smile on Ebony's face sent a jolt of fear down Teresa's spine. "You have always been so reckless, so quick to let your emotions rule you. It is the one thing that we will have to truly break you of." The condescending smirk fueled Teresa's rage. "You will never truly get him back. I will always hold a part of him that you can't reach." The image of this snake holding James while he was so vulnerable made her vision go red at the edges. And the doubt she felt slipping into her veins, under her skin made it impossible to stop what came next.

Teresa pushed off of the wall ramming into Ebony and pushing her into the cot. The momentum sent both of them over, but Teresa got up first. She had just straddled Ebony's chest, pinning her arms at her side. Her fist was drawn back ready to descend on the woman beneath her. Then there were arms around her. Someone was pulling her off of Ebony and she fought to get away, to get back to her. Because she deserved to hurt, she deserved to be broken the way they had hurt and broken James, the way they had broken _her_.

But she couldn't. Who ever held her was too strong and her head was ringing from colliding with the wall and falling over the cot. And James was there, in the doorway. Seeing him, seeing the worry and confusion, and anger on his face… She couldn't fight anymore.

Now that she had stopped struggling she could see more clearly. Two guards were helping Ebony off of the floor, leading her gingerly out of the room as if she were a queen instead of a monster. The guard who was holding her waited until they were out of hearing distance to put her back on the ground. Her legs almost collapsed under her, but she didn't fall. She couldn't fall. James had stepped into the room, back against the wall by the door. She knew he was waiting for the guard to leave, waiting for an explanation. Or maybe he wasn't- the video of him and Ebony was paused on the screen and his eyes were glued to it.

* * *

He couldn't look at the screen anymore.

He didn't remember that night. He didn't remember a night like it, ever. He and Ebony…they were never close that way. And by the way Teresa had attacked Ebony it was probably something he wasn't supposed to remember. He had thought there was nothing else they could do that would tarnish his view of these people more, but he was wrong.

He turned to the guard as he left, trying to avoid looking at Teresa for a little while longer. It made no sense, but he felt as if he had betrayed her, as if being with Ebony meant Teresa's feelings weren't important. He knew that wasn't true, but still…

"James."

He blinked, realized that the guard was now gone and he was staring at nothing. He turned to face Teresa. But the image of her-hurt, _small_ \- it wasn't right. It didn't match with the image he had of her in his mind. The one that was made up of memories from their time in Dallas- from their time in Phoenix. She had been hurt before, she had been sad and nearly broken. But she had never folded in on herself, never made herself small. Even at her lowest he had watched her fight to keep her head high, struggle to be seen and heard.

"James, are you okay?" He flinched. She was the one fresh out of a fight. She was the one with all of the emotions that could hurt her right now. But he knew that she didn't see it that way. She took care of everyone else first, regardless of how torn up she was.

And because he knew that he nodded. He was fine. The sight of him and Ebony together was a shock, but now that it had sunk in he wasn't a surprised. "It wouldn't have meant anything even if I remembered." And that was true. He didn't see Ebony that way. She was beautiful, yes, but his attraction to her was superficial. It always had been. And before, their friendship prevented him from seeing her in that way.

Teresa nodded, but he wasn't sure she believed him. He didn't blame her. How could he even believe it when he didn't remember it actually happening? But she didn't argue with him about it. Instead she sat on the cot, making herself comfortable. "What did he want? The Director?" James let himself search for any emotions she might be hiding, just for a moment, and then focused on what she was asking.

What had the Director wanted? What hadn't he? "The man is crazy." He watched her arch a brow, saw the flash of amusement in her eyes at his words. And he couldn't blame her. He had been working with the man for months and only now saw the disconnect? "Okay, yeah. But he never let it show before. Now it's like he doesn't think he needs to hide it anymore." She bit her bottom lip to fight her smile. It was cute.

"Did he tell you how we fit into his plans? Or what his plans are?" She gestured for him to come closer, so he did- pushing himself off of the wall to stride over to the cot. He leaned against it, close enough that their arms touched- close enough that the microphones wouldn't pick up everything they said.

He ran his hand down his face, scrubbing at his beard a little. "They offered me a deal." He felt Teresa stiffen next to him. His hand dropped to rest on her knee, just enough pressure to reassure her. "Help them with their…mission…when it's over you and me walk out of here free and clear, no debts to pay later, no target on our backs."

Personally he thought it was too good to be true. Especially since he still didn't know what the mission was. What he had been told was that they were ending the drug trade in America. But now it was obvious that had been the story to get Teresa. Whatever the true assignment, the Director wasn't going to tell him until Teresa was on board too. "So…the deal is for both of us?" He nodded. She relaxed. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye. _She thought I might take the deal and leave her behind._ It was an uncomfortable thought. Mostly because he hadn't actually thought about leaving her. From the moment the words were out of the Director's mouth, he had been trying to decide how to make sure that no matter what else happened Teresa got out of there.

While Ebony had been playing mind games to make her doubt him.

"Teresa, he said that if you agree to the deal, he'll tell us the mission, give us all the details. It doesn't have to be permanent. We can bail later. We just need to buy enough time to get out of here." Enough time for her team to get to them. He knew Javier- the guy was crazy but determined. And from the way he had looked at Teresa it was obvious to James that there were some feelings involved. He would come for her. So would Pote. He treated Teresa like a daughter. There was no way they weren't already doing everything they could to find her.

Teresa turned a little so she could face him better and he did the same. Her eyes were watery and he could see so many emotions behind them. She was always so strong, seeing her like this- seeing her the last few months- it showed him just how much this whole thing was messing with her. She cleared her throat, trying to get herself under control. He waited. Finally she took a deep breath, head high as she said, "Is it okay if I hug you?"

He wasn't expecting that. From the way she had worked up to it, he had been expecting some self-sacrificial bullshit. But it made sense. Things between them were…difficult. But he was the person that made her feel the most secure and she needed that. His eyes went to the camera in the corner for a second. It was risky-showing any more affection than they already had. But they knew he had been in love with her- that why they took him. And they knew she was still in love with him- that's why Ebony was using the tactics she was using.

He pushed himself off of the cot. He caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes that she immediately covered. He moved to step into the space between her legs like he had earlier. He had to fight a smile at the confused look on her face as he let his hands settle on the cot beside her hips. Then he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her closer to him. She was frozen in his arms for a moment before her arms were tight around his waist.

"I say we take the deal and work with them until we can get out," he whispered into her curls. She nodded against his chest, arms tightening around him even more. _'I'm glad I found you, Teresa.' He was standing in the kitchen in Phoenix, Teresa's arms wrapped around his waist as they waited for the coffee to be done. She looked up at him, a slow sweet smile spreading across her lips. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to say it right then. But he held back. Guero was still fresh, and he didn't want to push her. But the words were right there. And maybe she knew, because she squeezed him that much tighter, smile growing wider. 'I'm glad you found me, too.'_

He loved her. It was there, he could feel it. Just like that morning in the kitchen. It shouldn't surprise him. The memories, the feelings, all coming back to him- it was almost inevitable. But he hadn't been prepared. Too much was different. Too much had happened. He shouldn't still feel the way he did that day in Phoenix. But he did.

He let his eyes close. Tried to fight the feeling down, make it stop. But it didn't work like that. This wasn't something he had control over- it never had been. He had tried in Dallas, he had tried in Malta. God, he had tried so hard to let her be another one of the girls, another part of the job. But she never was- even that first day.

Then it hit him.

He remembered everything.


	14. Chapter 14

_Previously on Fix It..._

 _He loved her. It was there, he could feel it. Just like that morning in the kitchen. It shouldn't surprise him. The memories, the feelings, coming back to him- it was almost inevitable. But he hadn't been prepared. Too much was different. Too much had happened. He shouldn't still feel the way he did that day in Phoenix. But he did._

 _'He let his eyes close. Tried to fight the feeling down, make it stop. But it didn't work like that. This wasn't something he had control over- it never had been. He had tried in Dallas, he had tried in Malta. God, he had tried so hard to let her be another one of the girls, another part of the job. But she never was- even that first day._

 _Then it hit him._

 _He remembered everything.'_

* * *

They let her take a shower. They gave her clean clothes and decent food. If it weren't for the ache in her muscles and the way she somehow didn't see a single soul who didn't have a weapon, she might have almost been able to forget that she was trapped in an undisclosed location being held by a group of…she didn't even know what they were. All she knew was she hated them and she and James needed to get the hell away from this place.

They didn't take her back to her cell. Instead the guard led her to a different hallway. It wasn't a shipping container like she originally thought. It was some type of underground bunker with the walls made of metal instead of concrete. Teresa assumed that the walls leading out of this place were concrete otherwise the metal would be eroding or something.

They went up a flight of steps and down another hallway before the guard pushed her into a room and shut the door behind her. There was a metal desk with stacks of papers on one end, a bookshelf that held exactly two books- _The Art of War_ and _The Communist Manifesto._ There was a leather rolling chair behind the desk- out of place with the rest of the furniture- but two metal folding chairs were on the opposite side of the desk. She sat in one of them and tried not to fidget. There were no computers or TVs- nothing electronic at all that she could see…

Except for the camera in the corner of the room.

Someone was watching her. She wasn't surprised at this point. It just reinforced her need to stay calm and in control. These people had seen her vulnerable too often. She straightened in her seat, hiding a wince at the way moving increased the ache in her shoulder, just as the door opened behind her.

She turned to face the newcomer and was met with the old man who had been at her house- the Director. He walked slowly to the desk and sat in the leather chair. His eyes were trained intently on Teresa's and she had to fight to keep from shuddering. A moment passed before he directed his attention to the door again. She didn't look this time- somehow looking away from this man seemed like a dangerous thing. But she still felt James' presence as he stepped into the room and took the seat next to hers. The door closed again and the three of them were left alone.

"Has James explained the terms of my proposition?" His voice sent a flash of unease down Teresa's spine, but she kept her face neutral. She nodded, not ready to speak yet. The Director didn't seem to be bothered by her silence as he only smiled before turning to James. "She is so hard to read. The mystery of her is as alluring as her beauty." Teresa saw James tense out of the corner of her eye. But he didn't speak and she kept her focus on the man in front of her.

"This country was fallen into disgrace. What was once the most powerful country in the world has been reduced to a debt-riddled, profit-centered corporation. And it has brought the rest of the world down into the pit of depravity with it." Teresa glanced over to James and was relieved to find that he seemed just as thrown by what the Director was saying as she was. James' eyes caught hers for a second and the edge of annoyed confusion made her breathe a little easier. "It is our mission-our duty- to restore the balance. But in order to achieve our goal we need people like you, people like Ebony and myself."

Teresa felt her lips curl in disdain at the mention of Ebony, but focused on the meaning behind the Director's words. She held up a hand to stop him from continuing, taking more pleasure than she should at the annoyed expression that crossed his face at being silenced. "Exactly what do you mean by restoring the balance?" _And what do James and I have to do with it?_

The Director glanced at James- almost as if to remind himself that he was still present. Then his eyes were back on her. "Ms. Mendoza, it is purely a principle of physics. Like matter, this world- our individual countries- cannot be destroyed. Not truly. But they can be reformed, recreated into something wholly different. That is our duty- that is our destiny. Remove the government- the structures of power- as we know them. Then recreate the country as if should be. No presidents, no moneyed elite. But a world ruled by order and chaos is equal and efficient measure."

It didn't make sense. She was hearing the words this man was speaking, and she understood the meaning of them as individual words. But together…Together they were illogical, irrational- the twisted dreams of a deluded old man. Yet Teresa could see that there was no way he would ever accept that. And he had an entire organization that was willing to fight and kill for this cause. Her mind felt like it was racing and frozen at the same time.

James leaning forward in his seat reminded her that she wasn't completely alone in this. He had to be just as lost as she was. So she watched him- focused on him to keep from falling into a spiral of what-ifs. "You want to overthrow the government? Create an anarchist state? Destabilizing the government would affect more than just America. It would screw with the global economy."

But instead of making the Director question his idea, rethink his plans James' words had the man nodding along in agreement. "Exactly. The fall of America is the fall of the world. We would be sent back to a time of equality and freedom that has been missing for generations. We would find ourselves at the precipice of discovery. Not of technology or some new useless species. No, we would be discovering the true meaning of what it means to exist. Survival of the fittest. Enhancing our genetic potential by letting the weak, feeble-minded, torpid of our species be eliminated via natural selection."

There was a gleam, a frantic light in his eyes that caught Teresa's heart and squeezed. It was insanity, it was terrifying. She couldn't speak. She could barely form coherent thought. But she could see it in her mind- this destruction he hoped to cause. Children being left to fend for themselves as their parents were killed by 'the fittest'. Elderly people being pulled from hospitals or nursing homes, the equipment being needed for 'more important' things. A girl -Lil' T's age- bleeding to death because her need to experience life as a young adult- her need to _find herself_ \- is seen as laziness and will not be tolerated in this new world.

"We will usher in an era of greatness not seen by any generation before us. And you two are going to be a part of humanity's new destiny."

* * *

He was fucking crazy.

For the first time James was genuinely afraid of how much control these people had had over him. Because if they could manipulate his _memories_ , could brainwash him as completely as they had, who the hell knew what they could have made him do- and forget- in service of this psychotic mission of theirs.

And the Director- the fervor that was so obvious in his voice and the way his words seemed to fill him with a vitality he had never had before…fucking crazy. But James didn't dare say that- not in front of him. Not with Teresa in the room. Because one thing he did know was that none of these people were above using the people you cared about to forced cooperation. So he kept his mouth shut. He didn't look at Teresa. He waited for the Director to say why exactly this mission needed James Valdez and Teresa Mendoza, specifically.

He didn't have to wait long.

"My people- my family-has been growing and expanding for years- each member of our crusade honing and perfecting their areas of expertise. But we always need more- we always need the best. This mission cannot be done with mindless soldiers or visionless thinkers. This mission needs minds that can adapt and foresee any and all outcomes. It needs soldiers who can lead as well as follow and be successful in either role." The Director reached across the metal desk palms up in a mockery of supplication. James leaned back in his chair to distance himself- the old man didn't notice. "Your stories have gone before both of you. Within the world of criminality you both have reputations of greatness. And that greatness is why we need you."

It took a while for James to realize that the Director was waiting for one of them to speak- his face expectant and hopeful. But there was a hint of threat- the reminder that there were ways to ensure cooperation no matter what answer they gave. But what the hell was there to say? Still he glanced over at Teresa taking in her barely concealed shock. "What happens if we refuse?" James already knew the answer. They would break them and manipulate their minds until they had no choice but to agree. He still needed to hear the words.

Sometimes it's better to know you didn't have a choice.

The Director widened his smile- the same creepy smile James had seen his very first day in this compound. "Mr. Valdez, believe me when I say that any doubts you may have will be eliminated in due time." James stiffened- a vague sense of danger in the words. But the director didn't pause. "Our collection will be complete as soon as you agree to the terms and Ms. Mendoza undergoes initiation."

He remembered his initiation. He remembered how he had been beaten and broken so badly he had lost track of time and place. He remember the injection they had given him that had somehow had him healing days before he should have been only to have him thrown back into fight after fight where death or victory were the only options.

No matter what the hell else happened, James would not let that happen to Teresa. So he reached across the desk to shale the Director's hand. He kept his voice light as he agreed to this madness. And when the guard came to take them back to their cell, James didn't try to fight his way out. Because acting recklessly stopped being an option the night he held her while she had nightmares about losing him.

Because he wouldn't risk Teresa.

* * *

They went to a different room- his room.

His clothes were folded neatly on the shelves in the closet. The few books he had been loaned still on the nightstand. His bed was the same neatly-made bed he had left. But the memory of Cyan holding his hand after a nightmare- a nightmare caused by these people- kept it from feeling as welcoming as it once had. Now it was tainted by the lies and machinations that had surrounded every action Ebony and Cyan had taking with him.

Still, he felt like he could almost relax. He felt as if his mind could finally start to process everything that had happened in the last days, weeks, and months. Starting with removing the cameras in the room. He turned to Teresa and found her hovering close to the door, looking more unsure than he had seen her in a while. He was about to ask when he followed her lien of sight to the bed.

 _Of course._

Ebony.

"It didn't mean anything, Teresa." James had to hide a wince at how cliché the words sounded. He knew the fact that they were true didn't make it better. "The trust I had in Ebony wasn't real- it was based on lies. And any loyalty to her I may have felt is dead now." Teresa just nodded before turning to face the rest of the room. He knew she was pushing the feelings down, trying to focus on their current problem. And since there wasn't much point in rehashing the whole thing, James let it go.

She walked to the dresser and ran her hands along the edges and undersides. He moved to the headboard of the bed and did the same. The sooner they found whatever bugs hidden in the room, the sooner they could figure out a plan. When he finished with the headboard he took off the mattress and checked the frame. Teresa had already moved on to the closet. He didn't miss the way her fingers trailed along the sleeve of his white sweater. She had always ended up in it back in Phoenix, sleeves so long on her that only the tips of her fingers would show.

 _He watched from his bed as she walked to his closet, black panties the only thing she wore. The muscles in her back danced lightly under the smooth skin he could still feel on is lips as she sifted through his clothes. Her slender fingers pulled his white sweater from its hanger and he watched the hint of a smile tip the corner of her lips upward. Then she was pulling it over her head, pushing her arms into the too long sleeves. When she turned to face him he lost the ability to breathe. The white against her tan skin, black panties just barely peeking out from under the hem where her left hand had gathered the fabric at her stomach as if she was unsure of how he would react. 'Come here.' His voice was lower than it should have been, raspier too. But he didn't care and he knew she didn't either. Then she was back in the bed, crawling over him. His hand slid under his sweater and across the softness of her waist. 'It looks good on you.' She gasped as his hand moved higher. 'You should take it back off, though...'_

"James?"

Teresa's voice brought him back to the present and he realized he had been staring. He shook his head at her silent question and forced himself to refocus on sweeping the room of bugs and cameras. He turned to the dresser mirror, knowing that Teresa had left it for him since he was taller. It took less than a minute to find the camera that Ebony had used. He had to resist the urge to smash it into a hundred pieces. Instead he added it to the piled that Teresa had started on his dresser.

Then it was done. The room was empty of any surveillance equipment as far as they could tell. James kept himself from reaching for Teresa at the sigh of relief she let out as they destroyed to last device. No matter that he remembered everything, no matter if he knew without a doubt that he still loved her as much as he had in Phoenix, he still needed time. They both still needed time. And being in the middle of this…mess…wasn't helping.

He leaned against the dresser, arms folded, "We need to be prepared for the possibility that we may not be able to ride this out like we thought." Teresa turned to face him as he spoke, eyes somehow showing everything and nothing. "If we try and fight our way out, they'll most likely separate us and do what they did to me all over again… to both of us." He paused to let her speak, but she didn't- just kept watching him with her carefully blank face and too expressive eyes.

He took a step closer to her, arms falling to his sides. He wasn't sure if it was to relieve his own stress or to try and reduce hers. "Teresa, this isn't going to be like when you ran in Dallas or hid from Epifanio." He watched her take in his words, shoulders dropping, before he continued. "My initiation was…" He didn't want to explain it, the details weren't important and they would only make her feel guiltier than he knew she already did. "I was the one who came out alive. That might now be how things go for you but I still think some hand-to-hand training won't hurt."

Last time he was with her, memories intact, she hadn't known much. But that was a year ago. A lot had changed since then. He knew Pote would have taught her if she asked, but James didn't think she had. Charger would be reluctant and Teresa wouldn't want to pressure him. James' mind tried to shy away from the other person who might have taught her. But he couldn't. Javier would offer. Javier would annoy her until she gave in. and he would teach her right. Still, the thought of another man touching her, holding her, keeping her safe for reasons beyond a paycheck…

 _You didn't remember her a week ago and now you're jealous of a hypothetical_ training _session?_ He shook his head and waited for Teresa to respond. "Okay," she said, hands clutching the hem of her shirt tightly. "But we have to do it here. I don't want to risk anyone showing up." He nodded- he had already decided the same thing. "Javier tried to teach me some things, but…I don't think I trusted him as much as I should have so it never really happened."

James felt like a dick for being relieved at her words. Any advantage she had in this life was only a good thing. It shouldn't matter who helped give her that advantage. Yet, knowing that didn't make the relief go away. "So, we start now. We move the mattress into the closet, break down the bed frame. Pushing the furniture into the corners of the room should give us enough room not to hurt ourselves too much." They could get through this- _she_ could get through this. He felt a hum of excitement- glad to be doing _something._ He hadn't been there before, not when she needed him, but he could help her now.

"Okay," she said, smile just lifting her lips.

She was going to make it out of this place, he swore it.

"Okay."


	15. Chapter 15

*Trigger Warning*

Mention of possible sexual assault. Not explicit.  
Rape (in the most traditional sense) will not be in this story, however other non-consensual or questionably consensual sexual acts may occur in this and other chapters. Not explicit.

* * *

"Ugh!" Her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was sprawled ungracefully on the floor of James' room, teeth clenched to keep from screaming. This was the third time he had tossed her to the floor. The third time he had gotten the best of her. They had been at this for four days and she had barely improved. Teresa was sore and frustrated and wishing she had just let Javi show her some things instead of being stubborn. There was no way she would be able to win if these people put her through the same things they made James go through.

"Sit up, let me look at you." She had missed his voice for months but at the moment she almost hated it. He wasn't even doing anything wrong. He was fairly gentle when he sent her to the ground keeping her from hitting the floor with too much impact. And he was patient in explaining what she did wrong and how she could improve. He didn't yell when she kept making the same mistakes or forgetting the thing he had just told her.

But that was part of the problem. It would be easier if she could just be angry with him and have him be angry back. Because right now her frustration just made her want to be mean and his patience made her feel like a bitch every time she glared at him. Still she dragged herself into a sitting position frowning at the floor while he checked to make sure she hadn't reopened anything. Her mind was going over every move she had made, trying to figure out how he had gotten the best of her- other than overall physical strength.

"Do you know what went wrong?" She let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. Then he was dropping down to sit next to her properly- his arms draped over his knees. "You overextended yourself. It threw off your balance and left you open so I could grab you. Everything else was good." She let her head fall back with a groan- which James laughed at. It wasn't cruel or mocking so she didn't let it bother her too much.

Turning her head so she could see his face she let herself enjoy the sight of his smile. It had always been rare to see James smile. Since he had found her in São Luís the smiles had been more frequent, but they weren't real. They weren't the smiles that reached his eyes and showed the warmth and humanity that he hid beneath his apathetic exterior. This smile- now- was real, even if it was slightly at her expense. She would still take it.

They sat together, not saying anything, until a knock down the hall had both of them on alert. Teresa could see the way James' muscles had tensed, ready to jump up at a moment's notice. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever be able to fully relax after all this was over. He had never been the most easygoing person- at least not in the time she had known him. But now, having people take his memories- his freewill…Teresa couldn't imagine it would be easy for him to drop his guard again.

"It'll be time to eat soon." His voice broke into her thoughts. She glanced at the clock by on the nightstand and saw he was right. She hadn't fully learned the schedule here, but 6:00 seemed like a decent time to have dinner- so that's when her and James went. "We should get the room back in order. One less thing to worry about when we get back."

It wasn't the first time since they had been brought to this room that Teresa thought about logistics outside of escape plans and fighting. There was only one bed. A bed neither of them had used. A year ago that fact wouldn't have been a problem. A year ago sharing a bed with James would have been the obvious choice no matter what. But this wasn't a year ago. Teresa wasn't even sure she _wanted_ to sleep in the same bed as James. She knew she didn't ever want to sleep in _that_ bed. Ebony had made sure of that. Besides, it would have confused things for her- she knew it. And James probably wouldn't be okay with it either. He barely remembered her, and he obviously had more than a few mixed feelings when it came to her personally.

Teresa had known he would do whatever he could to keep her physically safe and mentally secure. Emotionally, however… She tried not to think about that if she could help it. So she had pushed the possible bed-sharing aside. It hadn't happened anyway. She'd had a feeling James would probably just sleep on the floor. And he had…she just ended up sleeping on the floor, too.

She really had worried for nothing.

But for some reason Teresa still found herself a little disappointed. She knew she wasn't really ready to be that close-that _intimate_ \- with James again. But a part of her- a big part of her- still craved the feeling of falling asleep with his arms around her. And maybe, another part of her had hoped that telling him the truth would make him open up to her more memory-wise…maybe even enough to want her as close as she wanted him.

It was irrational- she knew it was. But that hadn't seemed to matter that first night. Or the second. So she had stopped thinking about it. Bringing her mind back to the present Teresa focused on getting the room back to the way it should be. Today was the start of her initiation. She needed to concentrate on not making the mistakes she had in training today. Even if she was still nervous. So maybe she spent a little too much time making sure the corners of the bed were creased perfectly. Maybe she straightened the clock on the nightstand one time too many. She felt like she had earned the right to be unsure.

"Teresa." She looked up from where she was tracing shapes into the dresser. James was standing by the door, arms folded across his chest. She almost looked away from the intensity in his eyes. Almost. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. We'll deal with whatever happens when it happens. For now, keep your head clear, and don't let them see you nervous." He titled his head in that way that asked if she understood. She nodded.

Then he was opening the door and they were leaving the safety of his room.

They made it ten steps down the hall before two guards were beside them.

* * *

Pote didn't know how Teresa kept this man in check.

From the moment they had woken up and realized that Teresa was gone, Javier had been a loose cannon. He had practically torn the house apart to be sure she wasn't inside somewhere. Then he had nearly crashed his truck getting to James' hotel. It was a fucking bloodbath. Pote had followed to make sure Javier didn't hurt any innocents in his rush to get to James' room.

They found a woman's body- bullet between the eyes. Pote had a feeling she was one of the ones from that phone call- one of the ones who brainwashed him. Which meant that they had come to eliminate him… And he had fought back. There was no sign of Teresa being here, though, which only fueled Javier's rage.

They couldn't take anyone, local police were still swarming the place- getting into the building had been more than tricky. Besides, from what Pote could see James had killed everyone they sent for him. The only person left to ask was the manager and no matter how much Jimenez wanted to, Pote wasn't letting him kidnap some kid who wouldn't know anything, anyway.

Instead they had put Ivan on it. And he had found a few things. In the rush to figure out what the hell had happened, they had decided to track James. It was easy for Ivan, although he told them local police would have a fucking hard time figuring out what he had. Especially since they had no clue what they were looking for. They tracked James from the hotel to a gas station- he was injured. Then Ivan had hacked into the cell tower nearby and sorted through every call that came or went while James was in that service station.

By the time they found the audio, though, they already knew what happened. James had left the gas station headed towards the house. So Ivan checked the properties surveillance. And sure enough- they saw everything. They saw Teresa heading downstairs. They saw the old man out by the pool. They saw when James showed up. Pote saw the way Javier winced when James held Teresa after she got hit with the tranquilizer. They all tensed when a crew came in and carried James and Teresa out to a van that had been hidden somewhere.

The audio just provided a little more context- like the fact that James had come to protect Teresa. Pote shouldn't have been shocked but he was. The man didn't even remember her- not really. But here he was, obviously wounded, just out of a gunfight, coming to save this girl he barely knew instead of getting the hell away from all of the craziness going on. He always knew that cabrón was loco, but this… She had been right to fight for him.

* * *

That had been a week ago.

Ivan hadn't been able to find a damn thing since they got off of Teresa's property. It was like her and James were taken by un maldito fantasma. No cell signal, no GPS to track, nothing. And Javier kept getting worse. Pote could barely keep him from running off halfcocked to grab one of the local cops or to threaten the security at the airport. And each minute Pote had to focus on keeping that cabrón from doing something reckless was another minute that Teresita was out there with these people who had sent a team to kill one of their own.

He was walking back into the kitchen, trying to let go of the argument he'd just had with Jimenez so he could focus on finding Teresa. Ivan was at the kitchen table, typing on his laptop, a extremely high tech tablet next to it. Pote didn't even look to see what was on the screen- he knew he wouldn't understand half of it. But he did move closer to the map hanging on the wall above Ivan's head. It had new pins in it. Meaning that Ivan had found another van like the one Teresa had disappeared in. They had pulled security from every private and commercial airport in the country. Ivan had run everything through a facial recognition program he had- multiple times. They hadn't taken a plane. Then it had been car rentals, trains, bus stations. Nothing. So they had to have driven. Because Pote really didn't think they vanished into thin fucking air. So they had gone to street cams and social media and ATM cameras and basically everything Ivan could get his hands on.

Twenty-seven vans like the one that took Teresa and James had been spotted.

Twenty-four of them led to dead ends.

So Pote sat on the other side of Ivan, pressing play of the video feeds up on a second tablet that showed the three new vans. He was vaguely aware that this was the longest he had ever spent with Ivan since they met. And he was also aware that this was the least he had seen Charger since they had met up in Phoenix. War makes weird friends. And this was a war- he just hadn't figured out how to win it yet.

* * *

Hours must have passed since he started watching these feeds before he recognized her. The video was from four days ago- had they really been on the move that long? It didn't matter. Pote turned the screen around catching Ivan's attention. Then the tablet was out of his hands and Ivan was connecting things and typing and doing whatever he did that would hopefully get Pote the answers he needed.

"This is it. The van leaves, but Teresa and James are both carried into a…something." Pote had never really liked those British type accents- they made words sound so harsh to him. But he was sure he had never been so happy to hear clipped, British English than right at that moment. Ivan was still typing as he continued. "The security is exceptionally good- better than the CIA which is a bit terrifying. And I had more than a little trouble getting through those firewalls so, you know, this is just really not…good."

Usually Pote would be glaring by this point in his rambling, but he was too anxious to worry about Ivan's annoying habits. Teresa had been there four days ago. Someone had carried her inside. Which mean that he could get her back out…As soon as Ivan figured out where this place was and what it was.

"Okay, almost…got…it. There! I'm in." Pote moved his chair to the other side of the table so he could see without interrupting whatever Ivan was doing. Nine camera feeds were now on the tablet that Pote had been looking at, each one switching to a different view every ten seconds. Pote watched each square, looking for Teresa or James. At this point he would be happy to see either of them as long as they were both alive.

They went through ten screen changes before they were back to the set of views they had stared with. James and Teresa hadn't been in any of them. Pote felt disappointment fighting with fear for dominance. Because he had gotten his hopes up. This was the first solid lead they'd had all week. But the fear was strong too, because he knew that James and Teresa had gone into this place. So if they weren't showing on the screens…There weren't a lot of good things it could mean.

Then, halfway through the second rotation of cameras, he spotted them. James was stepping out of a room- one that obviously didn't have a camera in it. Teresa was right behind him. She was limping a little, and since she was walking towards the camera he could more than a few bruises along her upper arms. He didn't know how she had gotten them, but whoever did it was going to die slowly. Two guards came up beside them. Teresa's fists clenched, but James didn't even act like he noticed.

 _Was he one of them again? Had they gotten back into his head?_

Pote hated to think it, but if that was what happened, then James was a threat and he would have to be treated like one when the time came. The man had shown how far he was willing to go to protect Teresa, but now they knew how far he'd go to take her down, too. _'Hey, you take care of her.'_ Pote shook his head. James had never needed to tell him that, it was a given. He just hoped for all of their sakes that taking care of Teresita didn't mean putting James down. Teresa would probably never forgive him, would probably send him away. But he couldn't worry about that. His priority was getting her out of there alive.

Because she couldn't hate him if she was dead.

* * *

He knew they were going to separate them.

He knew it and he still wasn't ready. Because when they finished dinner, his hand went to the small of her back- like it always did- to lead her through the crowd in the mess hall. He waited for her to put her tray away- like he had since the first night- before holding the door for her to exit. And when four guards showed up instead of two- he knew. And his hand pulled her closer to him by instinct. He positioned himself so that he was between Teresa and the guards, without even thinking about it.

She wasn't ready. The four days of training were nowhere near enough for her to take on multiple assailants. And her injuries were still healing. He didn't doubt she could fight and hold her own, but if it was like what he went through- the chances of Teresa coming out of this alive weren't odds he liked.

The guards were already pulling weapons, ready to move him out of the way to get to her. But he couldn't stand down- not this time. He felt her hand on his back, trying to get him to step aside. He could hear her telling him it would be alright, she would see him soon, but he could also hear the fear in her voice, wrapping around each of her words.

Then Ebony was there, walking towards them like a goddess in the realm of lesser mortals. Something about the look in her eyes made James worried for an entirely different reason. Because if Ebony was here, if she was a part of this, then Teresa's initiation would be nothing like his. Something she couldn't have prepared for. Ebony didn't stop moving until she was a foot away from him, her head tilting to catch a glimpse of Teresa.

"Ms. Mendoza, I will be escorting you to your initiation chamber. If you would be so kind as to follow me?" She took three steps back to allow Teresa to pass him. And even though her words had been for Teresa, her eyes hadn't left James. So he knew she was enjoying this. He knew that whatever was about to happen, she would relish every moment of it. He also saw the tick of annoyance when he didn't let go of Teresa when she stepped around him. "Mr. Valdez, delaying this will only cause undue stress to Ms. Mendoza. This course was set long before today, you will not disrupt it."

Teresa turned back to face him, and he could see she was trying to convince him that she would be alright. But all he could think about was how they had made him forget her. How he hadn't even know it was happening at the time. He couldn't allow that to happen to Teresa. And he couldn't stop it either. Which is what finally made him let go. "Remember what I told you." She nodded. "Don't let them get into your head." She nodded again. "Whatever you do in there…You don't have to hide from me."

He hoped she understood. He hoped she knew what he _couldn't_ say by those words. Her eyes got that much wider and the corners of her lips trembled. But all she did was nod. Then she was turning around and walking away. The four guards stepped up and took positions surrounding him to keep him from following Teresa and Ebony. But he wasn't going to do that. She had to do this- and he had to let her. They had to play the game- both play their parts. It was the only way for them to get out of this place.

Her head was high, her steps confident. She never looked back, never faltered.

The door at the end of the hall slammed shut behind her.

* * *

It had been nearly twelve hours.

They had gone to dinner at ten after six. They had left the mess hall at a quarter 'til seven. It was 6:15a.m. and she still wasn't back. He told himself she was fine. He told himself they couldn't damage her mind because it was the part of her they needed most for this crusade of theirs. He told himself that maybe they had taken her to a different room to sleep. But it didn't matter what he told himself he knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he saw her with his own fucking eyes.

He had been sitting on the floor, back against the bed for the past two hours. He had just put everything back in order. An hour into the wait he couldn't handle the silence or the stillness, so he had moved everything out of the way and gone through sets: Pushups, crunches, pull-ups, he even practiced some of his defensive and offensive maneuvers. It gave him something to do, something to focus on that wasn't whether or not Teresa was in pain.

He had never been one to hide from his emotions. He may not express them often or well, but he let himself feel them. But today he wished he could fall into denial, pretend that the reason he was so worried was just for survival reasons. Because admitting that you didn't want the other person who could help you get out of a fucking prison was so much easier than admitting the woman you love might be being tortured on the other side of the building.

He almost wished he didn't love her. So much had gone to shit because he had let himself care about Teresa Mendoza. Taking Camila to El Limpiador's to get that damn book. Not killing Guero on sight like he fucking should have. Letting her run with KellyAnn after Chicago. Fuck showing up in Malta- he didn't even know what the fuck that had been about. It had been a stupid plan all around on his part- especially after Suzie. He should have stayed the fuck away. He should have let her go.

He just…couldn't. A part of him had just been curious- wanting to see what the moneychanger from Sinaloa had made of herself. But the other part- the part that missed her goddamn sarcasm- just wanted to see her again. So he went. Then he stayed. Then he gave her his damn house and his fucking heart at the same damn time. And James knew- had never once doubted it, actually- that if it hadn't been for Devon Finch he would never have left her. He would have stayed by her side as long as she wanted him there.

But things didn't go that way. He had let his emotions make his decisions and they had gotten her here. And even in the middle of all of this bullshit he still couldn't quite regret any of the shit that got him here. He couldn't regret loving her though he wished he could have protected her from the pain.

Because she was a force of nature, this woman.

* * *

7:49 a.m.

The door opened and James barely had enough time to get to his feet before Teresa was collapsing in his arms. A guard closed the door before James could think of anything to say. Adjusting his grip, he picked Teresa up and carried her to the bed. Neither of them had slept in it. Four days of sleeping of the floor for both of them. But there was no way in hell he was putting her on the floor like this.

He laid her down as gently as possible, then he was stripping her. It felt wrong and awkward to be undressing her while she was barely conscious, but she could yell at him about privacy later. Right now he needed to see how badly they had hurt her. Her arms and stomach were covered in newly forming bruises and he had to bite his lip when he saw the fresh cuts along her neck and shoulders. He moved down to her legs, tugging her boots off before gently removing her jeans. His mind caught on to the fact that her shirt hadn't had cuts on it- meaning they had taken it off of her before they started. Her jeans had been free of holes or slash marks too. But her legs and thighs…Red was smeared across her skin and he could see a number of small burns- cigarette burns.

He had to take a step back. He had to remind himself to breath- because she needed him to be in control. She needed him to help her and take care of the damage these lunatics had done. But standing back let him see all of her at once- at least her front. And the angle let him see things he had missed up close. Like the fact that her panties were wet- but she didn't smell like urine.

And just like that he needed her awake and alert because if one of those bastards fucking…His hands were shaking as he folded the blanket over her. He could hear how ragged his breathing was when he knelt down on the floor so he was at face level with her. "Teresa." She squeezed her eyes tighter. "Teresa, c'mon, look at me." Her head tilted towards him and he felt his chest constrict at the way her shoulders relaxed when he spoke to her. "Teresa, I need you to look at me." He waited for another minute, knew she was coming around.

Then her brown eyes were on him.

All he saw was pain- pain and fear. None of the confidence she held when she walked away from him thirteen hours ago. But she knew him and she stayed relaxed. "James?" He hated how small her voice was, how broken. _What the hell did they do to you, Baby?_ Slowly, so slowly, he brought his hand up and let it rest next to hers on the bed. He wouldn't touch her yet, not until he knew what happened, not until she told him he could. But he wanted her to know he was right there if she needed him.

He took a deep breath, giving them both an extra few seconds before he had to bring up what happened while she was gone. He figured he should explain about her clothes first, he didn't want her to get upset and hurt herself more. "I took your clothes off." The tension was back in her shoulders, so much that it looked painful. His fingers twitched on the bed from how much he wanted to just…hold her hand. "Teresa, hey, I just needed to make sure you were okay. I didn't touch you, alright?" James wouldn't say she relaxed, but she went to a lower level of tense. He knew it wouldn't last, though. Not with the question he had to ask next. "Listen, I need to ask you a question. Yes or no, is fine I don't need more than that." He waited for her to nod her understanding. "Did someone- fuck- did someone force themself on you?"

He almost didn't want her to answer. God, he wasn't sure what he would do if she said yes. He knew it would be violent, though. That was the only thing he knew. But then he shut those thoughts down. This wasn't about him. This was about Teresa and no matter what she said, he would do what she needed him to do. She was shaking her head 'No'. But he saw her edge away from him just the smallest bit, saw the way her arms came up to wrap around her stomach. The physical cues weren't matching up, but he didn't want to push her. "Can you tell me what _did_ happen?" he asked.

But when he turned to look at her face again, her eyes were closed and she was asleep.

He wanted to wake her up- figure out what happened. Hell, he'd be good if he could just get her cleaned up properly. But she needed to rest, more than just physically. And there was no way he was going to touch her in any way while she was traumatized and unconscious. It could wait. Her injuries could wait. Explanations could wait.

So he settled back onto the floor, back against the bed.

He listened to her breathe.

He still didn't sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

*Trigger Warning*  
Italicized writing describes Teresa's initiation, which includes:

Sexual Degradation.  
Mention of previous Sexual Assault (not explicit)  
Mild Depiction of Physical Torture.  
Mild Psychological Torture.

* * *

 _The sound of the door closing startles her._

 _She can hear Ebony's footsteps- her heels clicking against the concrete floor._

 _'You shouldn't be afraid. Death will not come for you today.'_

 _She hates her voice. She hates everything about her._

 _The room is empty except for the two of them- no furniture, no camera in the corner, nothing._

 _Not nothing. On the floor is a knife. Her fingers twitch, body wanting to snatch it up, fight her way out. But her mind holds her still. Somehow she knows to move would be a mistake._

 _Then Ebony is moving, circling around her to stand beside the blade. She lowers into a crouch, picking up the weapon, holding it delicately between her fingers. The image is reminiscent of Camila, in Sandra's kitchen asking a dying man about confidence._

 _Then Ebony is standing again, moving toward her, each step deliberate in its slowness._

 _'Tell me, Teresa Mendoza, how strong is your mind?'_

 _The knife's edge slides along her throat- an empty threat, but still sending jolts of fear along her spine._

 _'Can your mind hold when your body is being broken?'_

 _Then the blade is gone, an imperceptible sigh of relief escaping her, only to be brought into painful contact with the skin just above her elbow._

 _'Undress. It would be wasteful to cut your clothes.'_

 _She hesitates. Her clothing is a layer of protection. It is armor in more ways than one. But the knife is back at her throat and so her fingers fall to the hem of her shirt._ 'There are no cameras,' _she reminds herself. It is only her and Ebony and the blade. So she takes off her shirt._

 _Ebony doesn't protest when she leaves on her jeans. She won't give more than she has to._

 _But then the door opens. Two guards step in and again she listens to the door shutting- the finality jarring to her nerves. One holds two coils of rope, the other appears empty-handed._

 _'You must be of strong mind if you are to truly join our mission. There may be a time, when your knowledge is wanted by others. Loyalty is demanded of you regardless of what may be happening to your corporeal self.'_

 _Then the guards were tying rope to each of her wrists. Ebony flipped a switch near the door and a bar descended from the ceiling. The ropes were secured to the bar, pulling her arms high- tension tearing through her muscles._

 _Ebony nods._

 _The first blow lands_

* * *

 _Hours. It felt like hours had passed since she was brought in to this place. Her body was aching, her nerves raw from pain. But still it went on._

 _A fist. An open palm. A knee. A booted foot. Each hit, each kick, left ripples of pain through her. The sting on her skin, the ache of the muscles, the way her bones seemed that much heavier. And between each strike, a question._

 _'Who do you work for?' Fist. 'What is your goal?' Kick. 'When will your people strike?' Slap. 'How will it happen?' Pain. 'Do you know this person?' Pain. 'Have you seen this before?' Pain._

 _Another switch flipped. A projector comes into view._

 _Then there were the taunts. Vitriolic words pulling at the threads of her emotions. Ripping into her deepest insecurities and bringing them to light._

 _'You don't deserve the loyalty you have.' Pote- smiling at the house in São Luís. 'You bring nothing but death to those you care for.' Brenda- Tony perched on her hip with an ice cream cone. 'You aren't worthy of happiness.' Guero- carrying her into their house in Sinaloa. 'You aren't worthy of protection.' Her mother- head thrown back in laughter, leaning against Teresa's father._

 _'You don't deserve to be loved.' James-arms wrapped around her in the pool in Phoenix._

 _Tears had been blinding her since Brenda's picture, but she had made herself look- made herself see the people she had brought so much pain to. She owed them this. She owed it to them to look at the lives taken from them._

 _Pote had been broken for her. He had nearly lost the use of his hand- his identity._

 _Brenda had died because of her. She had trusted her, come to Texas for her, gone to Mexico for her._

 _Tony was alone- an orphan- because she took his mother away from him._

 _Guero had been a prisoner because he loved her- because he was loyal to her- and in the end it killed him._

 _And James… The CIA had taken his freedom and torn at the pieces of his soul. These people had taken his mind and used the thing he was most proud of to deceive him. And now, because he had come for her, he was trapped in this place where he could trust no one._

 _She did that to him_

 _She did that to all of them._

* * *

 _They had left her alone._

 _The pictures were no longer displayed on the wall. The lights had been turned off, leaving her with nothing but darkness._

 _She could hear her blood as it hit the floor._

 _Her arms and shoulders and back ached from hanging from the ceiling. Her neck and stomach burned from the cuts Ebony had left along her skin. They weren't deep, she knew, but they were many. She knew bruises were forming. New ones on top of the ones James had tried not to leave while they were training._

 _They had taken her pants._

 _The cuts that littered her legs and thighs were more painful than the others- deeper, too. Ebony had enjoyed watching the way her legs shook with the strain of holding herself upright. And Teresa would never forget the excited spark in Ebony's eyes when she had pressed the blade close to her femoral artery- the knowledge that Teresa's life could be over with one more small press of the knife._

 _But now she was alone and somehow it was worse._

 _The words Ebony had whispered into her ear. The guilt and fear and pain Teresa felt. It was all rising- all pulling her in and holding her down like an undertow. In the dark she couldn't hide from her demons. In the quiet she couldn't silence her fears. So she thought of the lives she had taken as she listened to her blood fall to the concrete. She imagined the lives that could have been as the darkness left her blind to anything else._

* * *

 _Blinding light flooded the room._

 _The click of Ebony's heels seemed painfully loud._

 _A soft caress greeted her instead of the sting of a blade. It threw her off. She couldn't understand the gesture- couldn't make sense of the softness. It made her heart beat that much harder in fear._

 _Then more questions, more taunts, more pain._

 _Interrogation tactics she hadn't seen before. Doubts that had never occurred in her mind before._

 _A new type of pain._

 _She heard the lighter flick. She smelled the familiar scent of burning tobacco. But it never occurred to her- She never thought-_

 _It burned. It burned bright and painful and deep._

 _It was worse than the knife- worse that the punches and kicks. She hadn't known this type of pain was possible. But it was and Ebony thrilled at introducing her to it._

 _She hoped it would end soon. It didn't._

 _She hoped it would at least bring a reprieve from the fists and boots. It didn't._

 _No, it all came together in a dance so well-choreographed she could barely find a spare second to breathe without pain stealing the air before it reached her lungs._

 _Then her truest nightmare loomed before her._

 _'Tell me, Teresa, did Camila ever use you for more than your brain?'_

 _The pain and the lightheadedness, and the shaking she couldn't control made it take too long to understand the question._

 _'Did she ever use your body to reach her goals?'_

 _What little air she had managed to drag in, froze in her throat._

 _She couldn't mean-_

 _One guard stepped behind her, arm wrapping around her throat. The other stepped in front of her, hand going to the fall of his pants._

 _She knew her eyes were wide. She knew the fear was more than evident. She couldn't hide it. Not this time- not with this. Her mind threw her back to that room. Rough hands dragging her pants down. Harsh voice mocking her, mocking her pain. The smell of sweat and fear and smoke and gasoline._

 _Pote walking away from her._

 _Gato._

 _A hand touched her hip and she jerked back. She felt tears filling her eyes. The arm pressed to her throat got tighter. Ebony had stepped away, but her eyes were locked on Teresa's._

 _Then the sound of a zipper was grating along her spine and she forgot about Ebony. The guard in front of her was too close. She tried to kick out at him, but her legs were so weak, so burned and cut and tired she could barely move them._

 _She tried to beg, tried to say anything, but words were trapped. She couldn't get them out like she couldn't get air in. Then her eyes were falling closed. She couldn't hear anything, but she felt everything: the air touching her skin, the heat from the guard at her back, the weight of her panties where they rested against her skin. They never moved. He didn't take them off. If she had been less terrified that might have been soothing to know._

 _He spilled himself on her. He marked her in a way she knew she would never truly be clean of. The heat of it seemed to burn hotter than the cigarettes that had seared her skin. She was shaking. Fear, disgust, humiliation- they all fought for dominance within her._

 _Then she felt it sliding down her inner thighs and vomited._

 _She was distantly aware of her arms being let down._

 _She was vaguely aware of her clothes being put back on her. She body flinched, she knew it did, but even that seemed disconnected from… her._

 _She didn't open her eyes- not when they pushed her out of the door, not when they dragged her- half stumbling- down the hall, not when she heard another door open. They did open when the guard let her go, her body reacting to the sensation of falling._

 _Which is how she knew she was in James' room._

 _Which is how she knew she was safe._

* * *

She slept for seven hours.

He didn't move from beside her for seven hours.

It was a particularly excruciating type of torture. Because she was crying in her sleep- _screaming_ in her sleep. And he couldn't touch her.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his nails had cut into the skin- he was bleeding. But he didn't care because Teresa's mind was tormenting her. He had turned to face her when she had first gotten restless, tried to calm her down before whatever hell she was facing pulled her in too deep. But it hadn't worked. His voice didn't relax her this time. And even though he had never been good with words he still tried. He spoke softly about Phoenix and Malta, he reminded her of the weekend they had flown out to Tony's school, he told her about his time overseas- the pretty parts.

But nothing he said helped and no matter how much he wanted to, he knew better than to touch her right then. He was a soldier, he knew what it was like to be locked in a bad headspace. He knew it was worse to be startled out of it. Friends became enemies, innocent items turned into weapons. And he might not be worried about whatever damage she might do to him- but he was worried about the guilt she'd have if she hurt him.

So he sat and he waited and he prayed to a god he hadn't believed in for years that she would just wake up.

* * *

Her eyes opened and he missed it.

He had been staring at her hand, the one right next to his. He had been looking at how small and soft and fragile it looked. It was the opposite of her in every way. Teresa was small physically, but her presence was equal to someone twice her size. And she wasn't soft, not in the way that let people take advantage of her, not in the way that let the world bruise her. She was fierce and unyielding. And nothing about Teresa was fragile. She was as strong as they come, unbreakable, she wouldn't let anyone make her otherwise. And that's what he was holding on to- because he didn't know what he'd do if those pretty eyes opened and _she_ wasn't staring back at him.

Which is why he missed when she woke up.

He wouldn't have noticed if her hand hadn't reached for his. For a second he thought it was a reflex, her moving in her sleep. But then she laced her fingers through his and he knew that wasn't a reflex. He let out a shaky sigh as he turned his head to see her. There were tears in her eyes, and they were puffy from sleep and crying. But he saw her- she was still the Teresa he knew…Unbroken.

"Hey." Her voice was hoarse, and it cracked a little, but he didn't mind.

"Hey."

Her eyes dropped to their joined hands, but he didn't take his off her. He watched the way her brows furrowed, saw how she bit the corner of her lip. He saw the pain that flashed across her features before she took a deep breath. "How long have I been out?" She was trying to keep her voice even, unaffected, but he could hear her pain. His hand tightened almost imperceptibly around hers.

"Almost eight hours by my count." He let her take that in. Sometimes it helped to just know simple things. She nodded, breathing a little less shakily. She still wasn't looking at him, but he didn't mind. He wasn't sure he could have this conversation with the full weight of her gaze on him. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Just like that, she shut down. He had seen Teresa put a wall up between them before. The last few months she had practically lived behind a wall. But this was different. Because he could still see glimpses of her and what he saw wasn't a need to protect herself. It wasn't fear of being hurt. It was guilt and shame. Two things James knew she had no reason to be feeling.

"Teresa." But she was shaking her head, eyes closing as she turned away from him. He cleared his throat of the tightness her distancing herself from him had left. "Okay, you don't have to tell me now. But you've lost a lot of blood and you have open wounds. Can I clean you up?" It was like his words made her remember the other part of her ordeal.

Eyes opening again she pushed the blanket away as much as she could without moving too much. James helped her, pulling it to her waist. He watched as she inspected her torso as best she could. Nothing would leave permanent scars if he treated them right now. He wasn't even too worried about the burn marks. They were superficial and he had some experience with that kind of damage.

"James?" His eyes went back to hers. She looked scared and stubborn. In almost any other situation he'd think it was cute. Not this time, though. He inclined his head to let her know he was listening. "What you think happened…didn't. I just- It was just a lot."

He watched her closely for a moment, trying to make sure that she wasn't hiding something. But if she was he couldn't see it, so he nodded. "I'm gonna get a med kit, then we're gonna get you taken care of." She gave a slow nod, still looking unsure. He gave her fingers a light squeeze, then got up and went to the dresser. He pulled out the standard first aid kit that he'd been told each room had. It wasn't much but it would do.

He turned back to the bed and paused. Teresa's eyes were screwed shut and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Somehow he knew it wasn't from physical pain, though. He stepped to the edge of the bed, "Teresa?"

Her eyes opened slowly, as she let out a deep breath. "I'm fine." His eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't contradict her. He would take what she was willing to give him right now. The rest they'd figure out later. "Can you start with my arms and stuff?" He didn't question it- he knew why, anyway. He just nodded again before moving to the side of the bed and sitting down.

He pretended not to notice the way she tensed.

* * *

She felt dirty.

James had cleaned all of her cuts and burns, he had put ointment and gauze. She wasn't worried about an infection.

She just felt dirty. Like something used.

James had given her his white sweater. He had pulled out a pair of sweatpants for her to wear too. When she had asked-only after she had asked- he helped get her soiled panties off and get into the sweats. She wanted to take a shower- she wanted to _be_ clean- but they both knew she wasn't strong enough to go alone and she wasn't ready to be any more exposed in front of a man. Even if the man was James.

But the unclean feeling just made every insecurity Ebony had brought to the surface that much louder. It made her feel smaller and smaller- less and less deserving of everything James was doing for her.

He was being so careful.

Teresa could see how worried he was. She could see that he didn't want to make her uncomfortable in any way. She appreciated it. And she knew she was safe with him, but… She didn't deserve it. On some level Teresa knew that the things Ebony had said weren't true- not all of it. But there were so many people who had been hurt or killed because of her actions- because of her decisions.

James was one of those people.

And now he was taking care of her, helping clean up the mess Ebony had made of her body. Cleaning up the mess that guard had left on her body. These people might have taken him because of his sniper skills but they brainwashed him to get to _her_. She had seen the video- she knew what they did to him. For months. And they never would have gotten to him so easily if he hadn't been with the CIA. And the reason he was there was to keep Devon away from _her_.

She felt sick.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop." Her eyes flew open at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts. James was packing the first aid kit, each movement efficient and methodical. But his eyes were on her. "I don't know what Ebony said, but it isn't true. Don't let her get into your head."

"Like you didn't let Suzie get into yours?"

She froze. Every muscle locked up. She didn't know why she said that. She couldn't believe she said that. James had paused in placing burn ointment into its slot and she could see the slight tremor to his fingers. His eyes shifted to the closet, face wiped clean of expression. "James." He didn't blink. "James, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that. What happened with Suzie… I'm sorry."

His lips pressed together and his eyes went back to the first aid kit, but he nodded. "It's fine." But it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. "Look, I'm not trying to make this harder for you. We don't have to talk about it." He tossed the rest of the items back into the kit. That wasn't like him. James liked things to be organized, efficient. He only got messy when he was really upset.

He was standing next to her hip so she reached her hand out. She saw his eyes go to her hand where it hovered close to his. For a second she was sure he'd look away- pretend he didn't see her. For a moment she knew he was going to turn away, leave the room- leave _her_. But then his fingers were wrapping around hers and their palms were touching. "Perdóname, por favor."

He shifted his stance, cleared his throat. "Teresa... Are you hungry?"

She slid her hand out of his.

* * *

She hadn't been hungry. And even if she had, Teresa didn't think she could have eaten then anyway. So it had been quiet for a while, neither of them speaking. There wasn't really anything to say. So she had watched James read until she fell asleep.

When she woke up the clock said it was almost nine. James was still on the floor, in the same spot he had been when she went to sleep. "Did you go to dinner?" Her voice startled him. That didn't happen often. She watched him shake it off before turning his head so they could see each other properly.

"I figured I'd wait until you woke up."

She nodded, although it made her wonder...

"Did you eat at all today?" Teresa didn't have to see his face to know she wouldn't like his answer. Guilt was clawing at her mind. She hadn't realized it had dulled. "Go, before the mess hall closes." He didn't move, but she could tell he was thinking about it. He seemed hesitant, though, as if he wasn't sure he could leave her alone. He shouldn't be worried about her- not after what she said- not after what she put him through. "I'll be fine."

He didn't look convinced but he got up anyway. He laid the book on the nightstand, page dog-eared to save his spot. His fingers slid along the comforter next to her hand, an offer. She squeezed his fingers then let go. She couldn't rely on his comfort, it would blur the lines in her mind. And she couldn't push him- not his memories, not his feeling, nothing. Not that she deserved anything good from him anyway. Besides, she wasn't sure how much of his touch she could handle after what happened. These small moments were nice but…

"I'll bring you something."

She didn't respond. But it didn't really matter.

James was already out the door.

* * *

He couldn't keep still.

The plane had landed in Venezuela finally. The flight had taken seventeen hours. It was only supposed to take thirteen. So Javier was more than a little anxious to be moving.

They had too much trouble getting tickets. They had to pack. They had to figure out where they could get weapons once they got to Venezuela. Ivan and his fucking computers had to be 'handled with the utmost care and diligence, if you don't mind.'

Three hours after Pote called him they were in the air.

Then the flight was delayed during one of their layovers.

Javier had never wanted to shoot someone as badly as he wanted to shoot the little man behind the airline counter. Why the hell weren't guns allowed in Venezuelan airports? Then Pote was there, telling him to calm down, bitching about drawing attention.

If they had drawn attention a week ago maybe they would have Teresa back by now.

But he followed the old man back to their seats. He sat in the uncomfortable chair. He didn't curse too loudly. For a Jimenez that was damn near saintly behavior. Then their flight was being told they could re-board the plane. He just barely stopped himself from knocking over an old woman. But only because his abuela would be disappointed in him.

So now they were here- in Venezuela.

They had booked rooms at a hotel near where Teresa was being held. It was another two hours of driving according to Google. Javier would make it in no more than an hour-fifteen. They had to meet with their weapons dealer. He needed to get his Death Squad caught up. His men had already arrived and were waiting at the hotel.

That was the only good thing about this entire trip.

"Um, excuse me, Javier. Wouldn't you like to, perhaps, slow down a tad?" Javier had really started to hate that little man's voice. "I mean it just seems reckless to be driving so fast when, um, well, the speed limit is 80 kilometers and you- you're going uh…127."

He didn't expect Pote to comment, but he should have.

"Look, Cabrón, if we get pulled over it takes longer. If they arrest you, then what?"

He hated that fat old man's voice too.

He dropped down to 88.

* * *

They had been working on a plan for hours. At this point Javier was ready to leave everyone else and go get Teresa himself. He had seen the security. He had a pretty good feel for the numbers. And if James was still pissed at those assholes then Javier would gladly give him a gun and shoot their way out. If not, he'd take Teresa and run. But this…the never ending talk. It wasn't his style. His men knew what to do. They knew the general side of the bunker Teresa was in…hopefully.

Either way he needed to move.

"Look, we've been over this ten times already. My guys go, they shoot out the cameras on the perimeter, we blow the front door and go in through the back. Why are we still talking about this?" His men were ready- guns loaded, knives sharp.

"Fine. Fine! Let's go."

Maybe he didn't hate Pote's voice so much.

They headed out the door and loaded into the vans. Ivan had done something that was supposed to make them invisible to track. So when they got Teresa if any of those bastards were still alive, they wouldn't be able to use GPS to find her again. The route they were taking to the bunker was taken care of too. Ivan had gotten in to loop the feed and since it was such a secluded area from what they could tell, it wouldn't be strange if no cars came or went.

The only thing they weren't sure of was what condition Teresa would be in- physically and mentally. He didn't want to think that they could have done to her what they did to James- not in just a week. But he had seen the mind do strange things to protect itself. Teresa was strong, no doubt, but everyone had a breaking point.

He hoped she hadn't reached hers.

* * *

"Did she complete the initiation?"

The door closed and he heard Ebony stepping closer to his desk.

"She never gave up any information."

That wasn't an answer.

"Ebony. Do not play games with me."

A pause- then, "Yes, her initiation is complete."

"Good. They will begin Phase Four conditioning in two days. I assume she will need time to heal?"

He could feel her anger. It didn't faze him. The mission was priority, not her petty machinations.

"She will. I'll begin preparations."

He looked up from the book he was reading- dismissal clear on his face. She left without another word.

 _Destiny is upon us._


	17. Chapter 17

9:07 p.m.

Pote had been fighting since he was a kid. Adrenaline, danger, they weren't new to him. But the stakes had never been this high before. He had done some big jobs, had to take out some serious people, but somehow he didn't feel prepared for this. Teresita was at the end of this road. She was in trouble. And one mistake from him- from any of them- and she might not make it out alive.

Javier was in the back of the van with his Death Squad, ready for action- probably too ready. For the first time in a while Pote wished that Valdez was running this. He had patience. He had better control of his emotions. Side by side Javier and James were pretty evenly matched when it came to skills- even when it came to getting people to follow them. But keeping focused… Pote had to admit that James set the bar pretty high.

Then there was Ivan… They needed him to run all his computer stuff, but having him was a liability. He was made to fight those firewalls he talked about, not soldiers with loaded weapons. Pote just hoped that this went down the way it was supposed to. He might be annoying sometimes but Ivan was a good man to have on your side.

He looked around the van, taking in the faces on this team. The Death Squad was loyal to Jimenez, but he had given them the option, told them they didn't have to take this job and he'd still call them Brother. But they had all agreed, they had all said that Teresa was worth it. It made him both grateful and nervous. Because if something went wrong…

They couldn't afford for anything to go wrong.

* * *

"From here you go on foot, gentlemen."

The van pulled over and Ivan turned to hand out the earpieces that would keep everyone in contact. This job was too risky for anyone to go in blind. Javier and his guys got out one by one and Pote watched as they huddled close, heads pressed together. He didn't know what Javier was saying, but he almost wished he were a part of that moment. He had always worked alone, never had a team to rely on- not until Teresita.

Then the feeling was gone. Because a team just meant you had more people to lose. He'd rather only risk himself not coming home. The guys pulled away and split into teams of two, and Pote watched as they blended into the night. Jimenez was in the lead. He disappeared from sight almost immediately. And soon he couldn't see any of them at all.

"Pote, you're going to need to meet up with Javier at the back once the cameras are taken care of. I gave this to the other men," Ivan said, handing over a cell phone. "It's not actually a phone. It's a GPS of sorts. It will let you know where our people are in proximity to you, so no one accidentally shoots anyone they shouldn't."

Pote slipped the device in his pocket. "Keep the van on and the lights off." He hopped out of his seat so Ivan could take it. Then he reached into the side of the door and pulled out a pistol. "Anybody shows up that's not one of us you shoot to kill." He paused for a moment, trying to decide if he really wanted to give his next order.

They couldn't take any chances.

"Valdez isn't one of us."

* * *

9:19 p.m.

James didn't go to the mess hall.

His head was all over the place and he knew that one wrong look from any of those assholes would end in someone dying. He knew it wouldn't be any of them. So when he got to the mess hall he kept walking- didn't stop until he got to the training room.

It was empty- like he knew it would be. Most of the guys trained in shifts and right now was between the usual times someone would be there. So he had an entire gym to himself. He took full advantage. His fists pounded into the punching bag hanging in the corner. Then he was beating his best time on the built in obstacle course. Pushups, crunches, weights…Anything he could do to get Suzie's smile out of his head- to forget the sight of Teresa falling into him that morning.

He knew Teresa hadn't meant to throw Suzie in his face. He knew she wouldn't do that to anyone. But it happened and maybe the words cut a little deeper coming from her. The guilt felt heavier when she mentioned it. Knowing he had been lying to that family, knowing he had been the reason those kids were orphans. He'd made kids orphans before but that had been so different. Because there was no proof. There was nothing tying that guy to what Devon said.

But Suzie…

That little girl had been so bright and kind. They had all tried to make him feel welcome, but that little girl did the trick. And, God, she had been so brave. What little kid goes back? What little kid leaves safety to go towards danger? But he should have known. She loved her parents- they were her whole world- of course she'd want to make sure they were alright.

James dropped to the training room floor. His fingers grabbed onto his hair. It hurt, but he needed that- needed the pain. He needed something to dull the ache he felt when he saw that house explode. They hadn't even been able to bury _her_. What was left of the body was cremated. A picture was all that was left of that bright little girl and that was on him.

He dragged in a ragged breath, slowly releasing the hold on his hair. He managed to pull himself to his feet- legs shaking more than they should. He was tired- more than physically. He didn't know exactly how long he had been going full force. But he moved back towards the obstacle course.

Because he could still hear her laugh.

* * *

9:32 p.m.

Teresa glanced at the clock again.

It hadn't even been nine o'clock when he left. He should be back by now. She knew he had still been upset by what she said, but he wouldn't just run away. That wasn't like James. He might not talk about it, but he'd come back.

If he could.

She pushed that thought away. She didn't trust these people at all, but it didn't make sense to hurt him anymore. They got what they wanted. As far as the Director knew, she and James were onboard with his scheme. And they had been training and conditioning James for months. What more could they do to him? That was the wrong question. Teresa had a feeling they could _do_ plenty. The better question was how would hurting James help their cause. They needed him to be able to fight. They needed him in one piece.

Unless they were questioning his loyalty.

Teresa didn't want to think it, but it was already so obvious. He had broken their hold and the first thing he did was kill their people. Ebony would want to regain that control. The director probably would too. It was safer if James didn't have a choice. It was more efficient if he truly believed the insanity they were trying to make reality.

They were going to recondition him.

* * *

Every part of her body screamed in pain as she sat up.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed seemed to bring every single cut and bruise and burn to her awareness…painfully. Her arms could barely support her enough to be sitting up properly. But she couldn't just lie in that bed waiting for them to bring back their version of James. She needed to find him before Ebony could hurt him again.

If her damn body would just cooperate.

She pushed herself to her feet, nearly falling back down. Her legs were shaking and the muscles in her abdomen had never burned so badly. But she couldn't sit back down. She had to move. So she slowly inched along the side of the bed, making her way to the end. If she could reach the dresser she would have something more solid to support herself with.

She nearly fell into it, but when she reached the dresser she leaned against it for a moment, giving her body a moment to rest. This was reckless- going out to wander the halls like this. And she knew she wouldn't be able to really help James with the way Ebony had left her. But the idea of him alone while that snake twisted the truth wasn't something Teresa could handle.

Her eyes went to the floor where her boots were. There was no way she could get them on but she hated the idea of being barefoot in the halls. It was one more disadvantage that she knew Ebony would exploit. Still, there wasn't much choice. So she made her way to the door. She let go of the dresser and braced her hand against the wall.

Being up for so long was making her lightheaded. She had lost too much blood during her initiation. And the time she had spent sleeping hadn't been enough, not nearly enough for her body to re-stabilize. Black spots dotted her vision. And suddenly the door was farther away than it had been a moment ago. The hand not along the wall came to her eyes trying to rub the spots away- trying to make things clearer. For a moment she thought it had worked.

Then the ground was moving beneath her and she was falling.

Then there was nothing but black.

* * *

9:46 p.m.

James didn't know what time he had left the training room, but he knew it was later than he meant it to be. His body ached and his breathing has a little too heavy, but his head was finally clear. He headed back towards the mess hall, hoping there would still be someone there. Teresa had been through a lot and her body needed food.

He turned the corner and came face to face with Ebony.

She looked surprised to see him, but covered it quickly. "James, I would have thought you would be caring for Ms. Mendoza." His eyes narrowed. Her expression didn't hold a hint of remorse or concern for what she did to Teresa. Her eyes grew colder when he didn't respond. "Is there a reason you are on this side of the compound?"

He watched her head tilt in that odd way of hers, as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for you to trip up. He inclined his head in the direction of the mess hall. "Missed dinner." Her blank expression shifted into a small smile. At one time he would have called it friendly. At one time he would have trusted that it meant something good.

She took a step back gesturing for him to pass her. He did, only for her to fall in step next to him. He kept his eyes forward and ignored her. Whatever game she was playing he wouldn't engage. He pulled the door to the mess hall open and she slid inside ahead of him. "Thank you, James. Most of the men here don't have manners like yours." He paused, trying to keep calm. "Please join me for dinner, James."

"No."

As soon as the word was out of his mouth he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes narrowed and she took a step closer, her chest nearly touching his. He didn't react when she brought her hand to his face. Didn't react when her nails bit into the skin under his jaw. "Mr. Valdez, I think you misunderstood. I was not asking." Her hands slid from his jaw to his chest, palm resting over his heart. "Ms. Mendoza had been through a lot. Initiation is a difficult process. But it _is_ a process, Mr. Valdez. A process that can take several days, even weeks, to complete."

James' jaw clenched at the threat. He didn't know what she wanted- he didn't want to know. But he wasn't going to let her put Teresa through another session like the one she just went through. He let his eyes meet Ebony's, let her see just how much her words disgusted him. Then he nodded to the table behind her.

"A wise choice, James."

* * *

He hadn't said a word since they sat down.

He hadn't looked at her, either. But she either didn't care or didn't notice. At least that's the lie he told himself. Because the truth was he knew she cared and he knew she noticed. He knew that every moment he didn't speak- every question he didn't answer was a mark against him. But he wouldn't sit there and act like things between them were fine. He wouldn't act like she was the friend he had thought her to be before.

She was an enemy soldier and he would not engage.

He finished his food and stood. If there had been a point to this charade he hadn't figured it out yet, but either way he was leaving. He grabbed the plate he had fixed for Teresa and headed towards the door.

"James."

He stopped. His free hand clenched into a fist. He wanted to keep walking- he wanted to pretend she hadn't spoken. But that put Teresa at risk and he wouldn't risk it. He'd be damned if he turned around though. He'd be damned if he gave her any more attention than his presence.

"There will be a time- very soon-when you will realize that I am not the enemy you think I am." He forced himself to breath evenly. "Fate was her ways and we each have our parts to play. Remember that."

He walked out of the room calmly.

He turned down the hall that would lead back to his room. It was empty- which was unusual. Someone was always posted on each hall. He thought back to when he first left. Someone had been in the hallway then. But none of the corridors he had passed once he left the training room had been occupied. He had just been too focused on getting back to Teresa to notice.

Then he was on the floor.

There was a ringing in his ears.

Lights were flickering along the hall.

Smoke and debris filled the air.

He turned his head towards the mess hall. The ceiling had caved in. He could see flames behind the dented metal walls. He pushed himself up. He could hear gunfire- automatics. He could hear screaming from the direction he had just come.

Then another explosion.

The power went out completely. He couldn't see anything. But it had come from the other side. The side where his room was.

He was moving before he realized it.

 _Teresa._

* * *

10:08 p.m.

Javier moved through the dark halls of the bunker. His guys had set off the first bomb as planned. Ivan had checked the feeds to find out where most of the guards were located. From the chaos he could hear through his comms his men were handling things well.

Pote was with him, making sure that no one snuck up on them. Javier had to admit- he'd never seen the old man in action before, but he was good. Glancing down at his GPS Javier turned to the left. It was hard to see, he didn't want to use a light, and the second bomb had taken out whatever had been left of the bunkers electrical system. His guys weren't the only ones wandering around this mess blind.

"Javier," He paused, turning back to face Pote. "Something's not right. Ivan isn't answering." _Shit._ That wasn't good. They may have blown the place up a bit, but if one of those pendejos had Ivan, no way he made it out of this alive.

"Go. I'll find Teresa- call you when I'm on my way out." Pote hesitated, and if it were anyone but Teresa, Javier would be offended. But he knew how much the old man loved her. Then Pote was nodding and walking back the way they had just come.

Javier waited an extra minute to be sure that no one was behind him. Then he was moving. He didn't know exactly which room she was in, or the specific hall, but he knew it was close. He checked the GPS again. None of his guys were too close. So if anyone showed up, he had a bullet ready for them.

He reached the end of the hall. It was just as quiet as the other two he had gone through. But it felt different- alive. He slid forward slowly, trying not to make any noise. There was thicker smoke in this hall and when he looked up he could see the sky. _This is where they set the second explosive._ The stars weren't bright enough to provide much light, and the moon was hidden. Javier wasn't sure if he was more happy or frustrated by that.

Then he heard it.

Someone was in front of him. He checked the GPS again- still clear of his guys. So whoever this was, they were a threat. He kept perfectly still. The whole place was practically metal, he couldn't afford to miss and have the bullet ricochet. He waited for the target to pass, then pulled his knife and slid it across a throat.

He laid the body down carefully, not wanting to make too much noise in case someone else was nearby. He wiped the blood off of his blade with the dead man's shirt before pulling out his cell phone. The brightness was high enough that he could see the strangers face, but not bright enough to draw attention.

 _Not Valdez_.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, yet.

* * *

Another empty hallway.

Two dead bodies to go with the first.

No sign of James.

No sign of Teresa.

* * *

He heard crying.

It was coming from somewhere to his right. His instinct was to keep moving, stay focused on Teresa, but his conscience wouldn't let him. So he made his way carefully down the hall. He didn't know how many innocents there were in this place. The thought had never crossed his mind before this moment. But if these bastards were willing to take James and Teresa, chances were there were a few more people who weren't here voluntarily.

He tripped over her.

Catching his balance he turned his cell phone on. When he looked down there was a woman- blouse torn and barefooted. Her hands were cuffed and she looked terrified. He crouched down so he could see her a little better. There were scrapes and scratches along her arms and legs. She had a cut above her right eye- a trickle of blood making its way down her face.

The poor woman was shaking.

"Ma'am, can you stand?" He slowly reached out a hand to help her struggle into a better position. He saw her wince but wasn't sure what was hurting her. He was about to ask when she nodded and began trying to stand up. He was on his feet in a second- hands steadying her as best he could. The screen on his phone had gone dark again, so he decided to risk the flashlight. If someone showed up he could handle them. "Can you tell me what hurts?"

She flinched away from the light, cuffed hands coming to her head at the sudden movement. "My head. I hit my head." Her voice was so weak. She swayed on her feet, and for a moment Javier thought she might faint. But then she straightened up. _Tough girl._ "I don't know how to get out of here. Can you…can you help me?"

His eyes went back to the end of the hall. He needed to find Teresa. She was his priority. But he couldn't leave this woman injured and alone, either. He turned back to her. "I can't take you, but I'll have one of my men show you the way out, alright." He saw her hesitate for a moment. He wasn't surprised- she was traumatized, was obviously being held against her will, and he was the first face to offer her help. It made sense she'd rather stay with him.

And any other time he might have agreed.

But then the hesitation was gone and she was telling him to call his guy. He sent out a text to Miguel, he was the closest according to the GPS. He turned the flashlight off while they waited. He didn't want to risk the attention if he didn't have to. It only took a few minutes before he heard his friend enter the hallway. "Miguel."

"Javier."

Javier turned the light back on, letting it shine on Miguel for a moment. Then he turned it so the woman was visible. "She's injured and I don't think she is here by choice. Make sure you get her clear, understood." He could just make out Miguel's nod before he turned back to the woman. "Miguel is a good guy. You'll be safe with him." He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before stepping away and allowing Miguel to take his place.

She and Miguel had just started to move away when he stopped them. "One more thing. Can you tell me your name?"

"Raven"

* * *

This was the last door on the hall.

Miguel and Raven had made it out and he had one more corridor to search if this one was empty. He was nervous, more than he had been in a while. What if Teresa had been hurt in the blasts? What if they found her only to realize they were the reason she was dead? What if someone else had gotten her out and they lost her all over again?

His hand shook as it hovered over the doorknob.

So much time looking. So much effort to get her back. He didn't know what he would do if she wasn't here. Or if she was, but they had found her too late. They couldn't be too late. That wasn't an option. Taking a steadying breath he turned the knob. The door was unlocked, but something was blocking it. He didn't want to push too hard, though. It might be an injured hostage. After Raven he had been more cautious about how he entered rooms.

So he nudged the door open carefully. He quickly turned on his flashlight needing to see what was blocking the door. The first thing he saw was a hand. Small, slender- a woman's hand. He tried to push the door a little more. He could just peek his head in.

Brown curls covered her face, but he knew.

Javier froze, not daring to breathe as he waited to see if _she_ was breathing. Then he saw it- the slow rise and fall of her breathing. She was here. She was alive. He nudged the door a little more until he could slip into the room. Then he was on the floor, phone beside him so he could see, pulling her into his arms. He turned her over needing to see her face.

She looked tired. But he was used to that so he wasn't too worried. Her arms were covered by long sleeves. But he'd give her a thorough check up once he got her out of here. He grabbed his phone before adjusting his hold on her and standing. Maybe it was in his head, but she felt lighter than the last time carried her.

He sent a text to Pote telling him he had her. Then he was praying to God and all the saints that no one showed up while he was getting her out. Because there was no way he could carry her and shoot at the same time. But there was also no way he was leaving her- not for a second. He adjusted his grip again so that he could pull the door open.

He looked up and met the barrel of a gun.

"Put her down. Now."

Like hell. Whoever this pendejo was he'd just have to shoot him. He knew Pote was probably on his way back, knew that even if this guy killed him, he wouldn't get far before one of Javier's men found him and took him out. And as long as Teresa got out of here, Javier would consider the mission complete.

But then someone was knocking the guy's gun arm to the side and driving a nail into his throat.

Javier couldn't say he was upset the guy was dead, but he was surprised as fuck.

Until he wasn't.

"Valdez."


	18. Chapter 18

Someone was standing at his door.

A light was on inside the room- which meant there was more than one person in there with Teresa. James dropped into a crouch, letting his hand slide along the rubble. He needed a weapon, something- anything- to fight with. Sharp pieces of metal and concrete cut his fingers, but he didn't care. He shuffled forward, hand still searching for something. Then his fingers wrapped around a thin piece of metal. He could just make out the shape of a nail before he was standing again.

He watched as the person at the door pulled a gun. He was saying something but James couldn't make out what it was. It didn't matter. He was pointing a gun into the room that Teresa was in. He moved faster, still careful not to make any noise. Then his hand was reaching out- knocking the gun to the side- driving the nail into the side of the man's neck. He usually hated the feeling of blood on his hands- always had- but not this time. Then the body was dropping to the ground and James could see who the guy had been aiming at.

"Valdez."

James' eyes narrowed at Javier's cold tone. Then his eyes dropped to the woman in his arms. "What happened to her?" The way Javier's expression went blank said a lot. It said he didn't trust James. It said Teresa wasn't his concern. It let James know that there was nothing close to friendship between them at the moment. But he didn't give a shit. "What the hell happened to her, Jimenez?"

Javier pulled Teresa closer to his body. "From what I can tell you brought a bunch of madmen to her door and got her kidnapped. I assume some torture was involved too. Other than that I'm not sure. I found her unconscious on the floor."

The acid that coated Javier's words cut at James. But he couldn't deny it. He had helped lead these people to her. And he was the reason she had been taken and tortured- at least partially. But he wouldn't play this game. Teresa was injured- she needed to get out of here. And she was traumatized- he didn't know how she'd react to Javier holding her if she woke up. So he ignored the taunts.

"How do we get out of here?"

The question seemed to throw Javier for a moment. Then he recovered, biting out, "I'm not letting you go anywhere with us. I'm going to get Teresa out of here. Then when she wakes up I'll let her decide whether to bring you in."

The tension he had been fighting not to show took over. There was no way- no way in hell- he was letting anyone walk out of here with Teresa without him. But then she shifted in Javier's arms and he could just make out her wince of pain. He took a deep breath and held it. He knew she needed to get out of here. And he knew that this fight was just delaying her getting help.

He gave a terse nod.

He stepped aside.

Javier walked passed him like he wasn't even there. The anger, the annoyance, it was scorching him from the inside out. But James kept his head straight. He forced himself to exhale. _Teresa comes first._ Then Javier was moving down the hall and for a second James felt off-balance.

"Javier." The man stopped. "She won't want to be touched when she wakes up." Javier half turned to face him even though there wasn't enough light to see him with. "I don't know the details. Just give her space."

He saw the tension in Javier's shoulders- tension _not_ from carrying another person. And he could see the murderous look in his eyes. James was sure if he wasn't holding Teresa, Jimenez would have already had him on the ground. But he was holding Teresa so he pulled her in closer before he gave a sharp nod and turned away.

James forced himself so stay still.

He made himself listen as the footsteps faded.

* * *

Pote couldn't stop pacing.

Ivan had been shot- an escaping guard had spotted him. Pote hadn't been sure he'd make it at first. There was a lot of blood when he had gotten back to the van. But he had used as many tricks as he knew to stop the bleeding until they could get him to a doctor.

By the time he was done one of Javier's men was stumbling towards them, a terrified looking woman right next to him. Pote didn't ask. He didn't really want to know. These people had obviously taken her like they did Teresita. Everything else they could figure out later.

Then Javier had texted him.

 _'I have her. On our way out.'_

Pote had never been so happy to get a text.

So now he was waiting. It felt like hours had passed since that message. Hours of worrying about someone stopping them. Hours of worrying about exactly how she was. But when he glanced back at his phone three minutes had passed.

He turned towards the van. He could see Javier's guy sitting with the woman. Her hands were clasped tight in her lap, but she wasn't crying or anything. Pote had to admit- he admired that. He knew what it was like to be at the mercy of another person. He glanced at Ivan. He was using one hand to type on his tablet. The man looked tired and frustrated, but he was still doing his part. Pote respected that.

Then the sound of the bunker door opening reached him and Pote turned around. Javier was walking out- a woman in his arms. Her face was turned away from him, but Pote still knew. It was Teresa. They had her back. His GPS beeped in his hand pulling his attention from the two coming towards him. _'Target is safe. Return to transport.'_ Pote shot a smile at Ivan before he stepped forward to meet Javier.

"She's unconscious. Has been since I found her." Pote could hear the thread of fear in Jimenez's voice. He looked at her cradled to Javier's chest and his fists clenched. She looked so fragile- like the smallest thing could break her.

"Valdez is alive."

It was a shock and it wasn't. It had always been the most likely thing. But he wasn't happy about it. _So they got to him_. It was the only explanation. Because otherwise Teresa wouldn't be in this condition. And James was too dangerous to not have some kind of hold over him. "You left him down there."

It wasn't a question. He could see that James wasn't here. But he wanted to know why. Javier stepped around him, moving towards the van. Pote followed, watching as he settled Teresa carefully on the bench seat that separated the front and back of the van. He watched the way Javier gently covered her with one of the blankets they had brought- folding the other and easing it under her head like a pillow.

Sometimes he forgot just how close those two had been before she found out about James.

He stepped back when Javier moved to leave the van, though neither of them went far. They both needed to be able to see her. Then Pote waited for Javier to speak. He wasn't going to let go of the conversation about James. He was a threat and they needed to be ready to deal with that. But he also meant a lot to Teresa and they had to factor that in too. Either way Pote was not liking this.

"I don't want him to know where she is until we talk to her. If she says he's okay then I'll bring him in."

The way that Jimenez's voice was completely empty of emotion didn't sit right with Pote. Neither did what he was saying "It doesn't matter if she says he's okay. Those people are in his head. He might be acting friendly, but he's been doing that since he showed up in Brazil." He didn't know what Javier was thinking but Pote wasn't going to let Teresa put herself in more danger just because she had feelings for James. He could see what she couldn't. Valdez might have cared about Teresa once. And maybe he had tried to protect her last week. But that didn't change anything. He wasn't in control of himself which made him a problem to be handled.

Javier nodded. But Pote could tell his focus was elsewhere. He would have mentioned it, but then the Death Squad started making their way towards the van. One of the men- Juan, maybe- stepped up to Javier. "The old man from the video is dead. We took out all the security we could see. Final sweep showed no hostages or other personnel."

Javier dismissed the man with a nod, turning towards the van. Then he stopped. "Juan, you did a full sweep?" Juan nodded. "Did you see Valdez?"

"No, Jefe."

* * *

She slid into the van while the old man and Javier were distracted.

Her hand went to the pocket of her pants- fingers tightening around the syringe.

She needed it to stay unconscious. She needed time to get away- find James. And if it woke up that would never happen.

She slipped the syringe from her pocket

It made no sense- the way men offered up their loyalty like tribute at its feet. It didn't deserve loyalty. It didn't deserve _him._

But that didn't matter. It wouldn't be an obstacle for much longer.

The needle sunk into bruised skin.

It was enlivening to know that those marks were her handiwork. A masterpiece of pain dedicated to a higher calling.

But the true joy- the true feeling of power- was the knowledge that its mind had fractured under the guidance of a master. And that breaking- the depredation of an undeserving whore- had been for him. For the love she held deep in the recesses of her soul for him.

She slipped back out of the van.

Returned to her seat- returned to her _role._

"Can I get you anything, Raven?"

She let her smile waver- let her eyes show a fear she didn't feel.

* * *

 _'She won't want to be touched when she wakes up'_

Those words kept circling in his mind.

And the anger that came with it clawed at his insides. He didn't think Valdez had been lying. In fact he was sure James had firsthand knowledge that it was true _._ And that was the problem. Teresa had been hurt and James had been there. James had seen her vulnerable. Javier wasn't jealous-this wasn't something to be jealous over. No he was pissed. Because James was the reason she was hurting- had been for a year. She shouldn't have had to deal with him after whatever she had been made to endure. Teresa deserved peace and safety- she deserved to be with someone she could truly trust.

And no matter what she thought, James wasn't that person.

"Just wondering, but, shouldn't she have woken up by now?"

Javier flinched. Ivan's voice was weak, the words barely making it out. His guys were used to this type of thing. And while getting shot was a bitch no matter how often it happened, you still built up a bit of a tolerance after a while. Ivan didn't have that. And if Javier hadn't been so focused on Teresa he wouldn't have left the little man alone.

But he pushed the guilt away. It didn't do anyone any good, and changed nothing. Besides, Ivan had a point. Teresa should have woken up by now. He turned to check on her, taking in her breathing. Then he knelt on the floor in front of the bench she was on. He gently opened her eyes- just enough to see it they reacted to the light in the van. They did. So based on his very limited medical knowledge he couldn't think of any reason for her to still be unconscious.

He turned to Pote, but the old man had the same concerned expression he had been wearing for the past twenty minutes. Javier brushed a curl off of her face and went back to his seat. He just needed for them to get to the hotel- the doctor they hired was already waiting. Then he'd be able to relax- he'd be able to breathe easy.

A sniffle had his eyes on Raven. He hadn't forgotten about her, but…He had forgotten about her. Miguel was keeping her company- keeping the other guys out of her space. It was the right call. And now that Javier remembered her he took the time to really look at her. She wasn't too injured- nothing that would even leave a scar. And she seemed less frightened the farther they got from that hellhole. Not that he blamed her. He hadn't been held hostage and never wanted to see it again.

"Is there somewhere that we can take you? Do you live in Venezuela?" He tried to keep his voice soft, soothing, to avoid startling her. But he still saw the way her body stiffened when he spoke. She shook her head- but didn't say anything. It was fine. Javier had already decided that he would pay for her to have a room in their hotel for the next two weeks, and he'd have the doctor check her over.

"Hotel is ten minutes out."

Javier took a deep breath and glanced back over to Teresa.

It was almost over.

* * *

She didn't know where she was.

The light was too bright. The walls had wallpaper instead of metal. Even the bed felt wrong.

She tried to go back to the last thing she remembered. She'd been in James' room- in the bunker. She had needed to find him. She was going to the door but… the floor moved? No, she fell. She fell and then there was nothing. Which meant she had been unconscious.

She felt panic rising. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who brought her to this place. Someone had carried her- someone had _touched_ her- while she wasn't aware of it. Her breathing was getting shallow and she was tensing- making her injuries painfully obvious. She needed to get out of here. She needed-

 _James._

Where was he? Did they take him too? God what if they had traded one hell for another. Teresa could feel herself spiraling- her thoughts dragging her to darker and darker places. She needed to breathe. She needed to focus on something else- anything else. Her eyes darted around the room- eyes seeing everything and nothing. She just needed one thing to focus on.

A door opened.

She scrambled to get the blankets off of her. Her legs shook as she got to her feet. She needed to be ready. Her hand flew to the bedside table and although every part of her body screamed at her to stop moving she grabbed the telephone and held it to her. The base was heavy- it would do enough damage for her to run. If she could swing it hard enough.

Then Pote was standing in front of her.

She made some kind of noise before she was falling into him. She could feel herself shaking. She could hear the sobs coming from her. Her breathing was too fast and not deep enough. Her legs were barely holding her weight. But it was all so distant- like watching through a window.

Except, Pote's arms were around her and he was calling her Teresita and she knew that everything was alright now.

* * *

Javier came to see her not long after Pote.

She had looked at him and it was like she could see every single hour he hadn't slept on his face. But even as tired as he looked she had never seen him smile so big. He took a step towards her and she had to fight not to step away. He was happy to see her, just like Pote. She could give him this.

But he didn't try to hug her- he didn't reach out at all.

That's when she saw it. The worry- the question they both knew he wouldn't ask. For a second she wondered what had given it away. James wouldn't have said anything. She hadn't said anything to Pote. She hadn't acted oddly- at least she didn't think so. She didn't like it- the feeling that someone could look at her and _know_. And he didn't know- not really. But the assumption was still unsettling.

"Hello Teresa." The worried look was gone and he was using his playful voice. She rolled her eyes and gave him a small smile. "I hate to bring this up now, but… My price doubles for rescue missions."

Her head dipped as she tried to hide her smile. But he wasn't finished. "And food is a separate fee for me and my men." She tilted her head back up, narrowing her eyes playfully. His hands went up in mock defense. "I'm just being honest. Those men eat like pigs. Someone has to pay for the food."

She let out a small sigh. She liked this- lightness- it was a welcome change from her life for the last few days. So she played along. "Ah, I see. Well, I'll have to talk to James-he was part of this rescue too, he should split the costs."

She expected a sigh or a quip about trying to get out of paying. But he went silent. Teresa watched as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She watched the way the corners of his mouth tightened the smallest bit.

"Where's James?"

Her voice cracked on his name and she watched Javier flinch.

"Teresa…"

But he wasn't saying anything else. He was just standing there- not speaking.

"Javier, where's James?" Her mind was conjuring images she never ever wanted to be real. James- body broken and left to die. James- eyes lifeless, blood pooling around him. James- scared and alone as he takes his final breath. Her breaths come fast and high. "Where _is_ he?"

But Javier was still just _looking at her_.

So she moved. She stood from the chair she had been in. She walked past him- headed to the door. But his hand on her arm pulled her back. Her palm was inches from his face before she could think. But she was not Ebony. Her hand dropped.

"Let me go."

He hesitated for a moment. She could see the conflict in his eyes. But she would not stand there and play this game. Not now- not when she didn't know where James was. "Teresa." Her glare stopped whatever foolishness he was going to say. He let go of her arm and stepped back. Then he let out a sigh and said, "He's at the bunker. I left him there."

Her eyes went wide- she knew they did. And her hands were fisted so tightly they ached. "You what?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but every ounce of anger she felt was heard. Because he didn't say what she thought he said. He wouldn't just _leave_ James in that place. Didn't he know what those people would do to him? Didn't he care?

"We don't know what they've done to him. I needed to make sure you were safe before I dealt with anything else." But all she heard was that he had left James alone in a bunker full of people who wanted to hurt him. He had left James alone with people who had tortured him. He had _left James._

 _"_ We're going back." Javier scoffed and she saw red. "We are going _back_. We are going to go get him." But Javier was standing there shaking his head. Telling her 'no', telling her it was 'too risky', telling her James wasn't 'in control of himself'. She didn't care what he said. "I'm not leaving him with those people."

His eyes softened and he stepped closer. She hated that- because it meant he had heard the tears in her voice. "I'll send some guys to get him." She pulled in a shaky breath. "But I'm not going to let him see you. Not until we know where his loyalties are."

"His loyalty is with me."

She didn't know how she knew- wasn't even sure when she realized it.

But she didn't doubt it.

* * *

He didn't wait for Javier to come back.

He had waited just long enough, and then followed behind him. He'd hung back to avoid Javier or any of his men seeing him, but he'd been watching. He'd seen Javier stop to talk to Pote. He'd seen him carry Teresa to the van. He'd seen Javier's Death Squad make their way out of the building and load into the van.

And he'd seen Ebony slip in with them.

So, no, he hadn't waited for Javier to come get him. He'd known he wouldn't catch them. He was injured and on foot. But the road they were on seemed pretty desolate. So he had followed that. He told himself that he'd worry about finding them again when he reached the city.

He had stolen the phone off the guy he'd killed and was using it as a flashlight and to keep track of time. He'd been walking for almost an hour. But he could finally see a main road. He stopped at the intersection to rest while he figured out what to do next. He knew that Pote and Javier had been desperate. He knew they couldn't have planned this out very well. Which told him that they were close by.

They wouldn't want to be too far from where Teresa was being held.

He also knew that they'd need a place to stay. Renting a place would be ideal, but James had a feeling it hadn't been something they thought about. So a hotel was the only other option. He turned on the Location settings for the phone and then did a search for nearby hotels. He clicked the closest one- 8 km from his location.

He started walking

* * *

They didn't even switch the van.

He was tired and sore and fucking sick of walking, but this made him see red. It didn't matter that they had basically destroyed the place- they should have covered their tracks. He scoped out the area, checking for any sniper nests. But there was nothing- no one walking the perimeter, no one at the door. He couldn't believe that Javier would really be this lazy.

 _Maybe he wasn't. Maybe you picked the wrong hotel._

Except James really didn't think he had. This felt right- even with the terrible security. So he moved in- circled the building to see if there were any guards that he had missed. There weren't, so he hoped that meant they were inside- preferably on watch and alert. He made his way into the hotel walking past the front desk as if he was a guest. He knew he looked like hell but the guy behind the desk barely glanced in his direction. He stepped around the corner and checked the hallways. The hallway to his left had a stairwell at the end so he went that way.

There was no one stationed at any of the doors on the first floor. And despite the outside security James knew Javier and Pote would both want guards on Teresa's door. He made his way to the second floor- it was clear. _Two floors left_. He went back into the stairwell and slowly moved up the stairs. He saw a guard outside the door as he reached the third floor landing.

He paused, needing to think about his next move. He already knew that Javier- and probably Pote- had marked him as a threat. These guys would put up a fight and James was self-aware enough to know he wasn't in a position to take on all of them. So he'd have to put them down one by one. Quietly.

He gripped the door handle and slowly turned it so it wouldn't make any noise. Then he eased it open, praying that this door was as well maintained as the others. He opened the door just enough to hold it with his shoulder- one hand pulling the nail from the bunker out of his pocket. Then his arm was around the guy's throat and the nail pressed to his carotid as he pulled him into the stairwell.

He pressed down, cutting out the man's air. But he was struggling and James was sure someone was going to burst in before this was over. The door closed with a quiet click, sounding like a gunshot in James' head. But he didn't let go. He tightened his grip a little more until finally the guy stopped struggling. A few more seconds and James carefully propped the unconscious man against the wall. He took his phone and his weapons.

Then he slipped through the door and into the hall. He looked down both halls and saw nothing. No guard to indicate which room Teresa was in. No way to know if Ebony was on this floor at all. He figured she probably was- Javier would want her to feel secure. James fought down the urge to punch something.

Instead he looked through the guys texts. And sure enough the information he wanted was right there. His annoyance grew with every single thing these guys did. The phone wasn't even locked- anyone could get into it. He stuck the phone in his back pocket and headed to room 305. Somewhere along the way he had decided that he didn't give a fuck about what Javier thought. He was going to see Teresa.

He got to 305- knocked.

He waited.

Then he was making sure he and Teresa didn't hit the ground.

* * *

He was here.

Her arms were around his waist and she was hurting from how tightly she was holding onto him. But she didn't care. She had been worried. Javier hadn't told her how they got her out, she just knew it had to have been a big fight. But he was here. He was alive and he was safe.

She heard the door to the room next to hers open and the sound of a safety clicking off.

Turning her head she sent Pote and Javier matching unimpressed looks as she felt James press a kiss to her hair. Then he was pulling back, gently unwrapping her arms from around him. She didn't want to let him go but things needed to be settled. So she straightened up and turned to face Pote and Javier properly. They both still had guns on James and she knew the only reason he was still standing was because she was right there.

"How the hell did you get here?" Javier asked.

James shook his head and she knew he was annoyed. She didn't blame him. Was that really the question they wanted to start with? But he answered anyway. "I walked. Then I looked up hotels. This was the closest- figured I'd try it first." She glanced at James and saw the way he was staring blankly at both Pote and Javier. She wanted to tell them to put the guns down but she knew they weren't backing down this time. "The woman you brought with you- where is she?" She watched Javier's eyes narrow but he kept quiet. Then James' words sunk in. "Look, you need to get rid of her. She's a threat."

She felt her hands tugging at the sleeves to James' sweater that she was still wearing. She didn't want to think her name- didn't want the feeling of safety she'd been enjoying to be tainted. Still, she asked, "Ebony?" Her voice was even, no fear evident, but even as she asked she felt the fear slipping into her veins… She turned to Pote trying to tamp down her fear and a sudden surge of anger. "You brought Ebony here? She's here right now?"

Pote's gun lowered the smallest bit under her glare but it was Javier who spoke. "What are you talking about?" Teresa had to remind herself to calm down. Javier was trying to explain- trying to give her the facts about 'Raven'. It wasn't their fault- Teresa knew that. They didn't know what Ebony looked like and they had only heard her voice once over the phone. Ebony was a liar- a good one. And Javier was a good man- of course he would help an injured woman.

But Teresa knew exactly what Ebony was.

"What room is she in?"

* * *

She walked in like a queen.

Her head was high- her face was the portrait of serenity. It was like the first day they met all over again. Except this time Teresa wasn't alone. James stood in the corner behind her, Pote and Javier blocked the door. Teresa couldn't see any weapons, but she knew that Ebony didn't need a gun or a knife to cause damage.

Teresa watched as she stopped in the center of the room. Ebony's eyes met hers briefly before moving to James. And they stayed there. "Mr. Valdez. I'm glad that you were unharmed during the attack." Teresa pressed her palms to her sides to keep them from shaking. Not in fear this time. This time it was anger that had her shaking. The way Ebony spoke- as if she actually cared about James or anyone other than herself. As if _she_ had never harmed him.

Teresa watched the calm exterior crack when James didn't respond. For a moment Teresa could see anger on Ebony's face before she covered it. Javier stepped forward as if he were about to say something, but Teresa raised her hand to stop him. She wanted to know what Ebony would do next.

Eyes leaving James, Ebony turned her attention to Teresa. "Ms. Mendoza. The Director was always so adamant about needing you for our mission." Teresa heard James take a step closer. "He always said that you were essential to our success. I never agreed." Ebony took a step forward. "I knew that you would be our downfall. Like with Epifanio. Like with Camila." Another step. "De la Peña, La Comisión, even James. Everything you touch, you destroy."

Then James was stepping in front of her- blocking her from Ebony's view.

"Back up." She glanced around James and saw that Pote and Javier had moved closer as well, hands going to their weapons. But Ebony didn't move back. She reached out resting her hand on James' chest. She took a half step closer so that her chest was pressed against his.

"You have such loyalty to a woman you barely remember." The words were meant to be a taunt- but somehow they sounded sad. Hurt flashed across Ebony's face for a moment and Teresa felt sick. Ebony's other hand joined the first and Teresa flinched. It was so intimate- like something Ebony had done a million times before. "You care so much for a woman who has hurt you and put you in danger for no other reason than her own pride." Her hands slid up to frame James' face. "You deserve more, James."

Teresa couldn't look away

Ebony was standing there touching James like a lover- like _more_. She was telling him things that tore at the already broken pieces of Teresa's heart. And she hated her for it. Hated her because she was right- James did deserve more. She had hurt him. She had put him in danger. And Teresa knew he remembered some things- maybe even some big things. But he didn't remember all of it. He didn't feel the way he used to. His loyalty now wasn't because he cared about _her_ , it was because he felt obligated to her for telling him the truth.

And Ebony was using throwing it in her face.

She was willing herself to look away when James' hands came up and wrapped around Ebony's wrists. He moved slowly and Teresa couldn't help but remember when he had done the same thing with her. He pulled Ebony's hands from his face, placing them at her sides before gently pushing her back a few feet.

"Whatever you think you know about me-you're wrong. I remember everything, Ebony. So my _loyalty_ is exactly where it should be."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter felt really weird to me and I still don't know why. So please tell me if you felt anything off or if it was all in my head. I re-wrote sections of this chapter three times and what you see is what felt the most correct.


	19. Chapter 19

_'_ _My loyalty is exactly where it should be'_

How could he say that? How could he think that his loyalty should be wasted on someone so undeserving? It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. He was _lying_.

Ebony tried to think of why he would say something so cruel. She tried to understand how he couldn't see how much she loved him. Everything she had done- every hurt she had inflicted on him… It had all been to make him better- to bring him to his fullest potential. And he had endured every pain so beautifully. He had fought so hard to hold on to himself. His loyalty, his sense of right and wrong, even his misplaced affection for Teresa Mendoza- it had all made her fall in love with him.

And now he was saying she didn't know him?

She knew him better than anyone. She had been the one beside him in his darkest moments. She had been there when his mind broke under her care- she had seen the heart of him then. And she had been the one to help make him whole again. Months and months of breaking and rebuilding, learning and relearning. Finding their balance- reaching a place of absolute _trust._ She had been there for each moment- every step.

No, she knew him.

She knew his taste and his scent and the way he moved within her. She knew the texture of his curls and the gentle roughness of his hands. She _knew_ James Valdez. Cyan had tried to warn her that her heart was too involved. And maybe that had been true when their mission was so much more important than her own wants and needs. But the mission was gone. The cause that she had lived and breathed for- sacrificed everything for- was no longer an obstacle.

And now he was pushing her away?

Ebony's eyes went to the woman behind him. The woman- the witch who held him enthralled- standing there as if she were innocent. He said she was good. He said she was _different_. But it had been lies- lies he told himself to make sense of her betrayals. She wasn't, Ebony knew that she wasn't. Because she had been the one holding James after his nightmares- nightmares about _Teresa Mendoza_. He had told her about the pain he had suffered- because of _Teresa Mendoza_.

No, that woman couldn't have him.

Ebony wouldn't let her.

* * *

He wasn't expecting it.

The way she moved- the absolute fury in her eyes- took him by surprise. But it shouldn't have. He knew what she was capable of. But when she turned and grabbed Pote's gun- kicking Javier's away at the same time. For a second James didn't know how to respond. Then the barrel was aimed at Teresa and instinct kicked in.

His gun was out. Ebony's eyes went wide.

He pulled the trigger. Her head snapped backward.

He lowered his gun and put it back in the waistband of his jeans. He felt…off. Like there was a fog around him. His eyes took in the crumpled body on the floor. But it felt far away. He saw the 9mm hole in the center of Ebony's forehead, the line of red winding down to the floor. He had never felt like this after a kill- especially not after a justified kill.

Then his focus went to the blood pooling underneath her head. Exit wound. It would be bigger. It wound stain the carpet. He stepped forward and picked up the body. He was used to this- cleaning up. His mind and body operating without any real thought. He carried her to the bathroom and set her in the tub- head towards the drain. He turned on the water. He went back to the other room.

Javier was talking to one of his guys. James heard enough to know he was ordering stuff to clean the room with. That was good. Pote was…cleaning his gun. Made sense- James didn't like when other people messed with his weapons either. He turned to Teresa. She was standing where he had left her- watching him. He felt the fog lifting slowly the longer he focused on her. And the clearer his mind became the more he could see how upset she was.

He nodded his head towards the bedroom and waited for her to move toward it. When James went to follow so did Javier. Irritation flared for a moment. But James pushed it back. It wasn't his fight. Teresa had to be the one to set Javier straight- if she wanted to. So he didn't say anything, just walked in and stood along the wall facing Teresa.

Teresa's eyes were on him and he wondered what she was seeing. She didn't look away when she told Javier to go. She didn't look away when he left or when Pote walked in a second later. "Teresita-"

"Leave, Pote." It was the first thing she had said since they had talked in the hallway. Her voice was different. It had been soft and a little nervous before. Now it was cold and flat. But Pote left, closing the door behind him. She looked away from him then, her eyes dropping to her hands where they were folded on her lap. "You remember everything?"

He nodded. But it didn't feel like enough. He wasn't good with words but it felt like he should try this time. "Yeah. I got my memories back- all of them- the morning we met with the Director." She drew into herself- like she was bracing for something. "It was a lot. I needed time to process everything."

"You don't have to explain."

He knew that. He knew that she wouldn't push him- not on this. That wasn't how they worked. But this didn't feel like respecting his boundaries. This felt like she was hiding. So he tried a different approach. "We had something good before." He watched her blink in confusion- trying to figure out what he meant. "In Phoenix." She nodded. "We could get that back."

He waited for her to say something.

But she didn't.

She walked away.

* * *

Pote watched as one of Javier's men cleaned the blood from the carpet.

The woman- Ebony- she had played them. And he didn't want to think about what might have happened if James hadn't shown up. It was all a mess. Javier was pissed. Teresa had gone somewhere- one of Javier's guys with her for protection. And then there was James. Pote had been sure he was a threat, but now…

He said he remembered everything. But he could have been lying. He could have been saying that to mess with that crazy woman. Before, Pote would have said it wasn't James' style. But a lot had changed. At least it felt like a lot had changed.

Walking out to the balcony, Pote looked at the pool area. Teresa was there, feet in the water. He didn't know what had happened between her and James in the other room. All he knew was that he wouldn't let Valdez play any more games with her. The last few months in Brazil had been bad enough. Teresa couldn't handle any more. So either they worked it out or James had to go.

Teresa looked up towards the balcony. For a moment he thought she was looking at him, but then he glanced to the left. James was on the balcony to the other room. He had the same look that Pote had seen in Phoenix. The first time he realized that there might be more between the two of them than business. He couldn't make himself believe that was a good thing.

"You hurt her again Cabrón, and I'll put a bullet in your chest."

James' expression didn't change, he didn't even flinch. His eyes stayed on Teresa. And Pote knew she was still watching him, too. Distantly Pote heard the gate to the pool opening. He glanced back and saw Teresa making her way back inside. He turned back to James. "You've never trusted me with her." The words didn't sound like an accusation, but Pote tensed all the same. "Makes sense. The last guy who claimed to love her left her for dead." James turned to face him and Pote could see something in his eyes. "But I'm not Guero. I won't hurt her like he did. I won't leave her vulnerable like he did."

He turned and walked away before Pote could answer.

* * *

Javier and Pote had gone back to the room next to hers by the time she got back from the pool. Teresa couldn't help being relieved. She needed a moment to herself- without their constant hovering. She was sore and tired and confused. So confused.

James' words kept playing in her mind. The fact that he remembered. Him telling her they could try again. It was all so much. She wanted to be happy that he remembered. She was happy he remembered. But she was scared too. Of what it meant- of what it could mean. In Dallas they had been learning each other. She had been learning herself- who she was without Guero. Malta had been different. Things were on her terms between them, but they still had to find their footing. It was easier- they knew each other. The trust they had in Dallas was still there but she had been too afraid to rely on it. She had been too scared of feeling the betrayal she had felt after the tracker.

But Phoenix…

He was right. They'd had something good. She hadn't even realized how good until he was telling her he couldn't stay. Then everything had changed. He was taken. He didn't remember her. They had to deal with Ebony and the Director. And now she couldn't help being terrified. Because she wanted them back. She wanted what they had in Phoenix. But her mind kept telling her that things couldn't be that way again. So much had happened to them and between them.

She stepped into the bedroom and froze.

James was sitting on her bed arms resting on his knees. It was so casual. His guard was down and she could see how relaxed he was for the first time in weeks. He looked up and made eye contact, but didn't move. So she did. She stepped closer until she could sit on the bed next to him. She couldn't help comparing him to Guero in that moment. She knew that if Guero had been sitting there he would want an answer. He would want to know what she was thinking and he would be trying to persuade her that being together was the only real option.

But James wasn't like that. He wouldn't try to make her decision for her. He wouldn't try to influence her in any way. He would respect her ability to decide for herself. And he would accept her choice. Which made it easier to make. She let her hand grasp his. She let herself lean into him the smallest bit.

"It can't be like it was in Phoenix." He didn't move for the longest moment. There was only the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then he gave one slow nod. Her hand tightened around his, holding him in place even though he hadn't tried to move. "But I want to see what it can be now."

He slowly turned his head to look at her. She kept her walls down- let him see what she was feeling. Gently he pulled his hand from hers. Her fingers twitch at the loss of connection but she didn't say anything. Then his arm was wrapping carefully around her waist- not tight, just there. She knew he was trying to give her space- trying not to crowd her after her initiation. She bit back a smile even while she had to blink to keep her tears from falling.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad I found you, Teresa."

Her mind went back to a morning in Phoenix. Coffee and sleepy smiles and sunshine.

"I'm glad you found me, too."

* * *

They stayed for the week like Javier had planned.

Teresa was still healing so she didn't complain. Besides she wanted a chance to figure out next steps. Brazil was…tainted now. Her home had been breached, she had been kidnapped. Not for the first time, but it still made her want to be somewhere else. So they would have to find a new place.

Most of Javier's Death Squad had gone back to Mexico. The extra protection wasn't necessary anymore. Ebony was gone. The Director was gone. The organization they had been building was rubble and ash now. Not that that kept Javier from hovering or Pote from trying to overfeed her. She was going a little crazy. The only one who was acting normal was James. He gave her space but didn't let her get lost in her own head. He invited her to do perimeter checks so she could get fresh air and regain her strength.

It was nice.

She knew Pote still watched them closely whenever they were alone. And she knew that Javier was still move than ready to put a bullet in James. But she had a feeling that was more personally motivated than concern for her safety. James handled it like he did everything else- sarcasm or silence. But she knew it annoyed him.

They were supposed to be leaving in a few hours. The flight to Brazil had been booked and everyone was packed. She had sent Ivan to a store to buy clothes for her and James since the only things they had were what they were wearing during the bombing. Ivan had tried to bring what he hoped we liked. Several pairs of black jeans and black t-shirts for James- black leather jacket included. Then a rainbow collection of shirts for her with several choices of colored jeggings and dark skinny jeans. She had to admit, she was pretty okay with her choices.

James walked into her bedroom. He hadn't been back in here since their talk. Teresa wasn't sure if that was intentional or coincidence. But it had been strange not having him in the same room as her. They had been sharing a room since they were taken- she was used to having him close. But thinking about that now wasn't productive. So she lifted an eyebrow in question.

"I think we should go back to the bunker." For a moment her heart stopped. For a split second she thought he had lied about his memories- that his loyalty really was to those people. But then he went on. "I want Ivan to get on their computers and get whatever intel he can. They hacked the CIA, they way to many details about our personal lives. I want to know how far their reach was."

Teresa let out the breath she had been holding. It made sense- what he was saying. And he was right. There was so much they didn't know about those people. And she needed answers. She wouldn't be able to let this go if she didn't get any. "Okay. Did you tell Pote or Javier?" She knew he hadn't. She knew he would talk to her first. But they had to start interacting with each other again at some point. Especially if James was planning on staying after all of this.

He let out an annoyed huff that could almost pass for a laugh. "Pote only listens to you- no point trying with him." She didn't miss the way he chose not to mention Javier. "If we leave now we can get in and out and make our flight on time." Standing up, she nodded and started moving to the door so she could let the others know. James' hand came out the catch her arm as she passed him. "We go at your pace."

Teresa felt a shaky smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He had been tortured in that place for months and she had gone through a few fights and her initiation. Nothing compared to what they did to him. Yet here he was- making sure that she was taken care of. Making sure she knew there was no pressure on her to do or be anything she wasn't ready for.

Her hand came up to rest over his. "Thank you."

* * *

Phase Four- it was…horrifying.

They had gone back to the bunker. Her, James, Ivan, and Javier. Pote had tried to come, but Teresa couldn't deal with both his and Javier's attitude- not in that place. And Javier wouldn't give so Pote stayed behind. The ride had been uncomfortably quiet- especially after Ivan stopped trying to start conversation. Then they had gotten to the site and it had taken all of Teresa's will power to walk back into that place.

Ivan had gone ahead to find the Director's office. He had the blueprints for the place from the attack. And Teresa had been relieved that she had one less person there to see her reaction to being back. She had been shocked when she'd seen the bombed out bunker. And each step further inside the wreckage had increased her tension. They could have died. She and James could have been hit in the blast or had a ceiling collapse on them or suffocated from smoke inhalation. No matter how much they had planned there was no way for Pote or Javier or Ivan to know exactly where they had been located. Or how much of an impact their bombs would have.

There had been a part of her that was angry at their recklessness. But the larger part had just been anxious to get back out. It had felt like her mind expected for one of the guards to show up at every turn. Or for Ebony to appear in front of them even though Teresa had watched her die. But this had been her prison- _their_ prison. James hadn't said anything but she'd known. He had been just as on edge as she was.

They had made their way back to the room she and James had stayed in. Rubble had been everywhere- she had been surprised Javier had been able to reach her at all. James had taken one look inside before storming back out. It wasn't until she went in that she realized why. The ceiling had fallen in during the blast. The entire bed had been covered by the rubble. She hadn't needed to look to know that Javier had been imagining her underneath all of it.

Her steps had falter when the three of them had gotten close to where her initiation had happened. Then James had been beside her and his body blocked the view of the room as they had passed. It had been the first time he had invaded her personal space since they had gotten there. And as soon as they had gotten off of the hall, he had moved back to where he had been before- behind them, making sure nothing caught them by surprise.

Then they found Ivan. He wasn't in the Director's office. He had left a trail along the wall with some kind of marker. And it led them to an elevator Teresa had never seen before. She hadn't wandered very much- mostly she and James had only gone to the mess hall for dinner. But when she looked over at James he hadn't seemed to know what it led to either. The three of them had gotten in and went to the floor Ivan indicated- three levels below where they had started. She had never even thought that there might be a sublevel- they were already underground.

She almost wished she had stayed ignorant.

The doors opened into a long room. It felt like the space covered the entirety of the building. There were steel beams for support at regular intervals and the floor was concrete. Monitors hung from the ceiling. Across the top of each monitor were the words 'Phase Four' followed by a list of identifiers: Names, Age, Race, Height, Weight, and Cognitive Function.

And below each monitor was a cot with a person in it.

They were all sleeping. At least it looked that way. And as she went down the rows she noticed that the cots were grouped into pairs- the numbers on the monitor corresponding with each pair. Javier had been fairly relaxed since they arrived but now he had his gun drawn and the safety off. James didn't have a gun, but the knife he carried was ready and he had pressed closer to her- ready to move if one of these people woke up.

She wanted to ask questions. She wanted to know what kind of weird shit was going on in this place. Because as psychotic as she had thought the Director was- this seemed to be a completely different kind of crazy. But she was too freaked out to speak. She didn't want to risk waking one of these people up. So she kept walking.

They found Ivan at a computer along the back wall of the space. She didn't understand what was on the screen but she knew it wasn't computer code. This looked more medical than technical. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a brain, but it was gone too quickly for Teresa to be sure. Ivan tapped out something on the keyboard and then turned to face them. Without any of them saying anything Ivan launched into an explanation.

"I thing I figured out what they were trying to do." There was a bead of sweat on his brow but Teresa didn't know if it was from stress of from the heat of the computers he was working at. "Each of the people in this room- as far as I can tell- are missing persons." He turned back to the keyboard and clicked something that pulled up a different screen. "Each of them is extremely intelligent- some are certified geniuses, even. And each or their partners was taken approximately a year after the first one went missing."

Teresa couldn't stop herself from looking at James. It had been almost a year before he showed up in Brazil. By the way he was staring back at her he must have been thinking the same thing. Then Ivan spoke again and her attention went back to the computer. "I found these…" he said as he pulled out a metal case. "…in that safe over there. It had substandard encryption, probably because they never expected anyone to breach the surface level. Which is a bit cocky if you ask me. I mean the point of security is to protect valuable property and if this is their Hope Diamond, their Mona Lisa, then they should probably-"

"What's your point?"

Teresa almost smiled at the exasperation in James' voice. She couldn't blame him though. Now was not the time for one of Ivan's nervous rambles. "Right, yes. Um, I stumbled across these little things and from what I can tell they are nothing good. Basically- and I can't believe I'm saying this- it's a mind control device." He pulled out a small thing stick maybe an inch long. "There was a little place to insert it into the computer and when I did it pulled up a lot of…well I won't explain it because that would take too long. But the point is a surgeon inserts it into the frontal lobe and it disrupts certain impulses based on commands entered by whoever was running the program."

Teresa's mind was already connecting dots and putting pieces together. The Director said he needed great minds. And it was obvious they had no problem with manipulating people's minds. And hadn't he mentioned that the organization had been growing. This was what he meant. He had been abducting people, brainwashing them, and then working on this for if someone got out of control. Someone like James.

Ivan pulled up another screen and she found herself staring at pictures of herself and James.

"They had you two slotted as the first ones to test it on."

* * *

This was a fucking mess.

The whole thing had already been fucked up enough, but now they had this shit too? James could handle a lot. He was a soldier; he was a cartel hit-man. Nothing in his life had ever been easy. But this was more than a fucked up childhood or an Afghan desert or drug wars. These people had found a way to control people's minds. And they had been ready to use it.

He had been pissed when Teresa told him about the brainwashing. He hated not being in control of himself. And he hated that Ebony and Cyan had tricked him into thinking that he was. But even that was different. Because at the end of the day, orders or not, he decided if he took the shot. He decided if he followed the mission or deviated. This thing Ivan had found- it took all of that away.

And that was if it didn't kill them instead. Because these people didn't know what the fuck the thing was really capable of. Top neurosurgeons were always talking about how the brain was still a mystery. These scientists or whoever the Director had brought in- they had a theory about how it would work. An untested theory that could have ended up with all of these people dead.

James turned to look at the rows of cots. It was so damn organized. Like something out a sci-fi movie. What the hell were they supposed to do with these people? Some of them had been missing for years. How much time did Ebony and Cyan- or whoever was here before them- mess with their heads? Ivan had said that they were tested after the surgery to insert the…thing. But then they had been put into drug-induced comas for god knows how long. James wasn't a doctor but he knew that the mind could only handle so much before it shut down.

"James." He turned back around. Teresa stepped closer to him. "Ivan says we should call the police. Maybe he's right." But James was already shaking his head. This was too big for them, but he didn't think Venezuelan police would know how to handle this anymore than they did.

He hated what his mind was telling him. But if they were smart this could work out in their favor. Besides, the people on those cots were going to need serious help. He took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. "I'll see if I can get in contact with Devon Finch. CIA might ease up on you if you give them this place."

The way Teresa completely shut down when she heard Devon's name was a surprise. He knew she didn't like the guy, but James knew for a fact that Finch had left her alone after he turned himself in. He wanted to ask- figure out what he was missing- but that could wait. He pulled out the cell phone that he had bought a few days ago.

He dialed a number, put the call on speaker, and waited.

"How did you get this number?"

"You need to come to Venezuela."


	20. Chapter 20

_The elevator to the sublevel opened and Devon walked out with two agents flanking him. 'Mr. Valdez. You continue to cause problems.' With a nod, the two agents moved and before Teresa could do anything James was in handcuffs. Teresa and her people were un-armed- Devon had made sure of that. So there was no way for her to force them to stand down. 'However, due to the circumstances, I am willing to reinstate the agreement we had in place.'_

 _Teresa could feel her palms dampening with sweat. Her emotions were slowly rising, edging out the control she needed. Still she kept her voice and face steady. 'There are photographs and digital copies of everything in that basement. If you take James, every government and media agency I can contact will have a copy.' And it was true. She had made sure that Ivan made copies of the hard drives and kept some of the technology. But she wasn't going to give it to anyone- it was insurance for her people's release._

 _Devon watched her closely and for a moment Teresa thought that he would agree._

 _'_ _It's unfortunate that you feel that way. However, this is not up for negotiation. Mr. Valdez will be returning with me- you do what you feel is necessary.'_

 _Then he was walking away, the two agents following with James being held between them._

* * *

 _Teresa watched as the patients were woken up slowly, agency doctors beside them. It was so strange. Watching them come to themselves, realize what happened to them and where they are. Each person seemed to react differently. But somehow it was all the same. Someone bumped into her, pulling Teresa from her thoughts. She turned towards the elevator. This place… The weight of it threatened to pull her under._

 _'_ _Teresita.' Pote was at the door to the elevator when she reached the main floor of the bunker. He had tried to convince her not to go back after the CIA arrived. He had tried to convince her of a lot of things in the last few days. 'When are we going back to Brazil? Ivan checked the orders and we're behind. People will start talking.'_

 _She shook her head. It was the same question he had been asking since the day after Ebony. 'I'm not leaving without James. Call Charger and have him send out the product.' Pote opened his mouth to say something, but Teresa didn't give him the chance. 'I'll call our suppliers and let them know that he'll be the face they see until this is over.'_

 _The look of doubt that came to Pote's face brought a flare of anger to Teresa. All he had done for months was question her. And since James came back he had questioned her even more. She knew he was loyal- she knew it came from a place of love- but Teresa knew what she was doing and thinking and saying. Her emotions weren't blinding her- not like they had at the beginning._

 _'_ _Claro, Teresa.'_

 _She walked to the bunker exit. They didn't have to understand- not Pote or Javier or anyone else._

 _She knew what she was doing._

* * *

 _Javier infiltrated the Black Site where Devon was holding James. It wasn't easy and there were too many times when a guard got a little too close to killing him. But he found the cell they were keeping James in- exactly where Teresa said he would be. Teresa had made sure to keep Devon's security in place with as little tampering as possible. So Javier used sedatives and non-lethal combat to put down the guards, while Ivan ran the camera and heat sensor feeds on a loop._

 _James didn't speak when the door to his cell opened. He didn't say anything when Javier walked in and untied him. He didn't say anything as they walked the halls and out the door. Teresa knew all of this because it was the first thing Javier mentioned after he got back. She couldn't tell if it was concern or distrust that made Javier mention James' continued silence. And it couldn't matter right then, anyway. There was still work to do._

 _She walked into the room where Ivan was set up. They had already released control of Devon's security. His men were waking up from what she could see on Ivan's screen. Now all that was left was to wait. Guards congregated in one room- securing Devon, like Teresa knew they would. She watched as they poured over their surveillance equipment looking for the intruders, trying to get a hold of the situation._

 _'_ _Now.'_

 _Ivan pressed a button._

 _The cameras went black._

 _Teresa could feel the vibrations from the explosion beneath her feet._

* * *

 _There were no survivors._

 _Her team went through the rubble to make sure of it._

 _Teresa shipped Devon's body back to America herself._

* * *

It was a week before James said a word to anyone. He didn't sleep for another three. It was like his mind had finally realized how much he had been through- how much had changed. She could see him struggling to fit all of the new pieces of himself into one complete person. And it was draining him. But no matter what time it was Teresa could always find him awake, sitting in silence, staring at something she couldn't see. Sometimes he left the house- stayed gone until morning. The first time she'd had to stop Javier from following him. Before, it wouldn't have mattered. James was never good with being idle and sleep was rarely his friend. Before, Javier and Pote had no reason to doubt his loyalty.

But it wasn't before- it was after.

Still, Teresa didn't stop smiling after the first night he actually _slept_. She had woken up in the middle of the night-a nightmare that she would never admit to having. She had gone to get some juice from the kitchen and noticed James' door was closed. It was never closed because he was never in it. So she had quietly opened it and peeked inside.

The lamp by his bed was on and a book was still open in his hand, resting on the blanket by his leg. His head was titled at an odd angle on the pillow and Teresa wanted to go to him- make him more comfortable. But she wouldn't risk waking him up. So instead she just watched him sleep. She took in the measured breaths and the way his curls were going in every direction. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier in the day, so he hadn't planned on falling asleep. But that just made her feel better. It meant that maybe his mind was finally healing a little bit- at least enough for him to rest.

She closed the door and left him in peace. She forgot the juice and went back to her own bed. And in the morning when he came out of his room she couldn't quite bite back her smile. He looked better. He ate more that morning. She thought she saw him roll his eyes at something Ivan said. It was such a good thing to see.

So, of course something would ruin it.

* * *

"Teresita, what are you gonna do about him?"

She didn't need to look to know that Pote was talking about James. It was the same question he asked every day. She gave him the same answer every day. Silence. Because she didn't know yet. And she didn't think James knew yet, either. They had talked since they got back to Brazil, but it had been little things: her day, the weather, what book he was reading. Things to ease the transition from lovers to enemies to whatever they were now. Whoever _he_ was now. She still cared about him. She still wanted to build something good with him. And she knew he felt the same way. But wanting had never been the problem. He had to feel comfortable in his own skin again. He had to be able to trust his mind and instincts. No, it wasn't wanting- it was finding a way to make it work.

Pote moved to leave when Teresa stopped him, her hand grasping his arm gently. Maybe silence wasn't the answer this time. "I want him to stay. But I'm not sure he wants that." That wasn't true. She knew he wanted to stay, she just understood that right now he probably shouldn't. She knew he was staying for her, and she was too selfish right now to let him leave. But she couldn't be selfish with him. "I'll talk to him. For real." Pote nodded and her hand fell back to her lap as he walked away.

Glancing up, Teresa saw James standing on the balcony of his room. His eyes were on her, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking from where she was. Standing she walked to the house and inside. They needed to have this conversation now. So she took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to James' room. The door was closed, but it opened right as she stopped in front of it. James stepped back to let her in, closing the door behind her.

"We've had this conversation before. But this time things are different." She turned to face him, taking in the way he leaned casually against the door, arms folded across his chest. "If you need to leave, James, I understand. I won't hold you here." It was taking so much more than she thought it would to keep her voice calm and even. To keep her words from tripping over themselves.

His eyes dropped to the floor and Teresa could see him working through it- finding a solution that worked. With a slow nod, James looked at her again. He pushed off of the door and strode across the room to stand in front of her. It had been a while since he had been that close on purpose. His hand came up and settled on the back of her neck pulling her into a hug. Teresa tried to ignore how similar it was to the vision she had in Bolivia. She tried to ignore how it somehow felt like their goodbye all those months ago in Phoenix. Her arms wrapped around him and held on tight- because she knew what this meant. She knew what it meant and she wasn't ready.

Tears stung her eyes as she felt the press of his lips against her hair. And her hands held him that much tighter when she felt how uneven his breathing was. She turned her face into the bend of his neck and left the whisper of a kiss there. "Call me when you get settled, alright?" She nodded not sure she could keep the tears out of her voice this time. His hold on her tightened and he let out a heavy sigh. "We're still in this together, Teresa."

She pulled back. It was like reliving the past. He had the same look in his eyes as Phoenix and it hurt to see. His hands were just as gentle, just as safe as they always were. But this time she could see a spark of something else. Something that made this easier. It wasn't goodbye. It wasn't the end. So she let her hands slide up to rest along his jawline. She lifted herself up so that she was that much closer to him. There were tears in her eyes but she smiled when his lips met hers.

It started soft, slow, a reminder- a relearning. She had missed this. And as impossible as it seemed, she had forgotten. His taste, the feel if his lips on hers, it had faded in his absence like an old photo loses its color. But not it was back, vibrant and bold and she couldn't believe she had forgotten this. It made her want more. It made that hot swirl of sensation pool low in her stomach. So she deepened the kiss. Because if this was all she would have for a while, she wanted to _feel_ it. And he matched her, just like he always had. He pulled her closer even though there was no room. Her mouth open beneath his, wanting- _needing_ \- more.

And suddenly it was too much, because she could feel just how much he wanted this and just how much he hated leaving. And she knew he could feel just how scared she was to let him go and just how much she _wanted this_. She tasted salt and knew it was because she was crying. And she hated herself for it because it made him pull back. The hand that had somehow wound its way into her hair was now pressed to her cheek, thumb brushing her tears away. She met James' eyes and saw every emotion she was feeling staring back at her. Her hands fell from his jaw to his shoulders, not ready to lose contact yet.

James pressed the most tender kiss to her forehead. Then he took one step back. Her hands fell to her sides. She took one more moment to just look at him, like this: eyes dark and heated, breath a little too fast, traces of a smile on his lips. Then she walked past him and out the door. She went to her car and left before she had thought about it. And she just drove. She drove until she had no choice but to go back.

And when she got there he was gone.

* * *

He kept in touch.

He called once a month. He texted once a week. Nothing huge, just enough to know he was alive and safe. Sometimes he sent her business contacts or tips for how to handle a problem if she asked. But mostly he kept his distance. And it was good for him. It had been good for him.

But now things were different. He was in control of himself. He trusted his decisions. He had reconciled the parts of him that had been created by Ebony and the Director. He accepted the person he had to become during his time with the CIA. And he had let go of the fear. It had taken six months but he could sleep without nightmares again.

So he was in New Orleans.

Standing in the door to Teresa's favorite café. She had described it to him in detail over the phone one night. And it was exactly the way he thought it would be. He walked in and sat in the third booth to the left. He ordered a black coffee. He heard her voice as she placed her order, but the crowd drowned out her words. It didn't matter though. He knew she got a white chocolate mocha, iced, with whipped cream and cinnamon.

He took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window as she made her way to her booth. His lips quirked up into a small smile at the way she froze when she saw him in her seat. Turning away from the window he took in the woman before him. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her white dress made her look powerful and kind at the same time. Her eyes were lighter, less burdened it seemed.

"You look good."

She placed her cup on the table and slid into the seat across from him. He smiled a little more when he heard her voice. "So do you." She watched him for a long moment, and James knew she was finding the changes in him the way she was finding hers. "You could have told me you were coming." He took another sip of his coffee. She rolled her eyes. It was new- it was nice.

Then he asked about business and things were like they always had been. They bounced ideas off of each other. He told her the info he had on the major and minor players. She shared her strategy for staying on top. They finished their drinks and left the café. He noticed the way her hand slipped into his as they walked. And his mind catalogued how she led them to all of the places she had told him about on their way to her place.

He didn't mind.

* * *

 _She led him to her bedroom. The sun was just starting to set and the room was washed in a golden-red light. Her skin seemed to radiate the suns warmth as she stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He wanted to go to her- he wanted to relearn the way her skin felt and the sounds she made when she was satisfied. He wanted to have that passion and connection with this woman again. But he stayed still. He took her. Because things had changed and he would do as little or as much as she wanted._

 _"_ _The house in Phoenix got me hooked on balconies." Her hands drifted up to her neck, unclasping the necklace she wore and placing it on the table next to her. "The view as the sunset, feeling just a little above it all- I liked it." Her fingers slowly released the buttons of her dress from their moorings. James' thumb ran along his fingers before he clenched his fist to keep from going to her. "Then when I left it reminded me of you." The dress pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of it._

 _Black lace contrasted with the warm tone of her skin and the golden light of the sun. It had been too long since he had seen her like this. He took in deep breaths to maintain his control. He knew what she wanted- what they both wanted. But now the tension was part of the foreplay- letting it build until one of them broke. Teresa strode across the room- sensual and confident. He let his eyes caress her body, from her toes to the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the valley between her breasts, until he reached her eyes._

 _The tension broke, then._

 _His mouth was on hers, her tongue danced with his. She tasted like coffee. She tasted like Teresa. Her hands were in his hair, and he had lifted her off the floor. He turned so that her back was pressed to the wall beside the door as she pulled him closer with her legs. She tore her mouth from his and immediately his lips found their way to her neck. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, just as she let it fall back to give him better access. "James…" her voice was breathy and high, more a sigh than anything._

 _He lifted her higher and pressed into her a little more to keep her braced against the door. His hands dropped to her panties and it he had been thinking even a little more clearly, he wouldn't have torn them. But he wasn't and she didn't seem to mind. Then his fingers were tracing her folds, and he could feel exactly how much she wanted this. His head dropped to rest on her shoulder as he tried to find something bordering control._

 _"_ _James, please."_

 _He pulled her into him and turned them towards the bed. Her hands were fumbling with his belt and the button of his jeans. He dropped her unto the bed but she didn't let him go, so he fell with her, catching himself just before he landed on her. But Teresa was already pulling down his zipper and tugging his jeans down. He kissed down her torso only breaking long enough for her to pull his shirt over his head._

 _His fingers went back to her center, tracing her entrance with his index finger while his thumb worked circles around her clit. He nearly choked on nothing when her hand wrapped around him. "Teresa…shit…" Her free hands grabbed unto his hair and pulled him back to her lips. She worked him rough, but slow. Each stroke seemed to last forever, but her grip was so tight it was almost painful. It felt so good- he couldn't even kiss her properly. Not that she was doing much better._

 _She had to stop. He had to stop her. The hand that had been at her hip took hold of her hand, pinning it to the bed. His fingers faltered in their rhythm when she whimpered at not being able to touch him. Then he pushed two fingers inside her, and listened as her whimper turned into a whine. His thumb kept up its steady circles and his fingers thrust into her deep and fast._

 _He wanted her to come. He needed her to come. On his hand with his mouth leaving marks along the undersides of her breasts. While her hands were fisting his curls and her voice was so wrecked it was perfect. He needed to feel her fall apart beneath him. He needed to give her that. And when his teeth scraped across her nipple- he did. She came with a gasp, her hands so tight in his hair his eyes stung. His head shot up so he could see it- see her._

 _He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock in one fluid motion. She threw her head back against the pillows and he could see the veins in her neck standing out. He could feel her heart pounding. She was clenching around him, hands pulling him closer even as her hips tried to pull away. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her nails dragged along his back, but he didn't care. He kept moving- in, out, in, out until she was gasping his name and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer._

 _Her mouth was on his neck, her hands were pressed low on his back pressing him closer, forcing him deeper. One hand was wrapped in her hair and the other was wound around her back keeping her right there where he could reach the farthest parts inside of her. He felt the tension in her body- he knew she was close and it just pushed him to get her there. Then her back was bowing off the bed, her nails digging into his skin and he only had a second of rational thought before he was pulling out and spilling onto the blanket between her thighs._

 _His head dropped to rest on her stomach and her hands turned gentle, tracing along the line of his spine. Her breathing was harsh, but so was his. Her thighs were shaking, and his blood was ringing in his ears. Finally he forced himself to move, forced himself to slide her to the other side of the bed. He made himself get up and go to the bathroom._

 _When he came back, wet cloth in his hand, his breathing stopped. Teresa was laid out on the bed, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee falling just enough to give her some modesty. Her hair was a riot of curls fanning across her pillow, one arm thrown over her head, the other holding a pillow to her chest._

 _He made his way back to her, gently cleaning between her thighs with the damp cloth. Then he pulled the blanket from the bed and grabbed the sheet. He crawled in next to her and she immediately pressed against him, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. He pulled the sheet over them and turned the light out._

 _For the first time in far too long, James was happy._

* * *

He woke up to brown curls.

Teresa was pressed against him. Their legs were tangled in the in the sheets, and her arm was draped across his abdomen. His hand came down to rest along the smooth curve of her waist, fingers brushing to bare skin of her hip. "Hi." He tilted his head to see her better. Her eyes were still closed, but there was a smile on her face that James could get used to.

"Hey."

He watched as she stretched before opening her eyes and sliding to the other side of the bed. The muscles of her back shifted as she picked up his t-shirt from the floor. His fingers twitched, but his hand stayed where it was. He hadn't planned for last night to happen. He was prepared to go slow, ease back into whatever they were to each other. But Teresa… She always had a way of sending his plans in a different direction.

She pulled his shirt on before tossing him his clothes. He sat up and pulled them on, ignoring her smirk at his lack of a shirt. It looked better on her anyway. He watched her head to the bathroom, smiling at the way she tiptoed on the cold tile. He waited until the water had gone off and she had opened the door again to ask, "So am I staying?" He knew the answer that he wanted. But he needed to hear it from her anyway. She tossed him a new toothbrush as she walked to her dresser.

Her eyes locked with his in the mirror. "Of course."

He smiled. "Good."


End file.
